


Set The World On Fire

by CloseToSomethingReal



Series: We Scream, We Shout [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale does his taxes properly, Being close to and saying goodbye to a dead person, Blood, Child Death, Crowley is Raphael, Cunnilingus, Death, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, How else would he fuck himself over, I'll keep adding the further we get into this that's the basics, It gets sad but I swear it's a happy ending, Lots of blood like so much blood, M/M, Manipulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rest assured all of that is in chapter 22 and it's very easy to skip if that's not your cup of tea, Reverse Omens, Sex, Who else would he be you know me, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 83,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloseToSomethingReal/pseuds/CloseToSomethingReal
Summary: A long time ago, about six thousand years, to be precise, there were two angels, and they found love.But that was six thousand years and a fall before this. Now, Armageddon is coming, and they're the only ones who feel like stopping it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: We Scream, We Shout [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781998
Comments: 115
Kudos: 111





	1. From Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [From Eden](https://youtu.be/JmWbBUxSNUU)

_ Honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago _

_ Idealism sits in prison, Chivalry fell on its sword _

_ Innocence died screaming, Honey ask me, I should know _

_ I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door _

_4004 bc_

The white snake crawled his way up the wall, tasting the air as he went. 

He could smell something. Besides the sulphur and ash that indicated the demon that had just finished getting Adam and Eve kicked out of the garden, something he had smelled when Eve bit the apple and he'd failed to stop it because he could smell something familiar. 

Something he had been searching for. 

Something that terrified him to smell. 

It wasn't right to smell it where he thought he had, but it wasn't a smell he wouldn't recognize. It was burned into his brain with righteous fire. 

How could he mistake that smell for anyone else? 

So he nosed his way up the wall, guided purely by smell although chasing a smell was the last thing he should be doing. 

Gabriel wouldn't approve.

The Metatron wouldn't approve. 

He should be trying to piece together the garden now that the tragedy had struck. The Almighty had told him time and time again that was his _job._ He was Raphael, archangel, healer of God. It was in his name to pick up pieces and try to reassemble lives, it was what he had done during the war and he knew that despite the grave sin, the first sin that had been committed, he should be helping. 

He was meant to help the humans. To heal them, guide them when they needed guiding. 

And not to ask questions. 

By not doing what he knew heaven likely thought he ought to, he knew he wasn't just putting himself at risk, but Gabriel, too. Gabriel, the reason he still answered to the Almighty at all. 

How could he betray that? 

But he had ignored the source of the smell once, and it had taken him this long to find it again. 

He wasn't giving it up again. Not when he couldn't be sure he would ever find it again. 

A demon stood on the top of the wall, gazing out upon Adam and Eve as they fled the garden. Storm clouds were gathering above them, a violent wind like the earth had never seen before whipped the demon's robe around his ankles. 

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon. Shame you froze up, serpent, could have saved them!" 

The demon's voice was like an icy knife down the serpent's back. 

Not because it was a demon. 

Because he knew the voice. 

But it shouldn't be a demonic voice. 

Quickly, he drew himself up, shed his serpent's scales and reclaimed his humanesque form that God had told them was necessary not to scare the humans with their true angelic forms before she had ceased speaking to them. 

Before her exchange with himself and Gabriel. 

Six blue wings unfurled behind him, but he quickly drew two pairs back. It wasn't as though he was flying, and if the demon wasn't whom he thought it was, since it couldn't be whom he thought it was, the six wings would likely give him away as an archangel and send it cowering. 

Raphael had some things to discuss with this demon. 

Like how he could almost bet he was going to wind up getting blamed for the whole eat-the-apple thing, even though it had been this demon. 

Raphael blinked as he realized he had forgotten what the demon had said. "I'm sorry?" 

The demon looked over at him, and Raphael felt his skin crawl. 

It _was_ him.

What had happened? 

"I said, that went over like a lead balloon."

There was no recognition in the demon's blue eyes as he looked over the archangel. 

There was a pregnant pause until Raphael realised the demon, _Aziraphale,_ was waiting for him to say something. 

"Yes, quite."

"Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. First offense and all. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil, anyways." 

Raphael's voice was dead in his throat. He still hadn't processed that this was _Aziraphale._ The angel he had been searching for was here. Fallen. With sooty black wings and soulless blue eyes. 

All he managed to do was regurgitate what Gabriel had been harping at him lately. "You can't question the Almighty, Az-" his voice choked out on him before he finished. 

"Azra. Not sure how you knew it started a-z. I'm afraid I don't know your name."

Didn't know his name? How would Aziraphale not know his name? "You don't remember?" 

"I'm afraid I'm quite sure we've never met. Now are you going to offer a name?" 

"Raphael." 

Lying didn't even occur to him. He didn't even really know that he had said it. His name slipped off his tongue without even a thought.

"An archangel?"

"Y- yes. Apparently not a very good one." 

Raphael swallowed down a lump in his throat. _Not a very good one indeed._ He couldn't even protect himself, or his closest friend in all of creation.

His closest friend in all of creation who didn't seem to know who he was anymore. 

"You really don't remember… anything?" 

"I'm not quite sure what you're expecting me to remember, dear boy. I do my best not to think about anything before the fall, even if I remembered anything." 

It felt like something had been torn open inside his chest and left gushing blood through his insides. 

Everything. Everything little thing he remembered, it was pointless. As though it had never happened. 

Aziraphale, Azra, now, didn't remember. 

Raphael attempted to swallow down his pain, but his throat was thick with grief at the loss and he couldn't force the feeling down.

Desperately, he looked out over the desert, trying to find a distraction.

It actually wasn't that hard. "When did they get a sword?" He gasped. 

Azra shrugged. "I figured since I got them kicked out of the garden, I'd better give them something to protect themselves with. Good thing, too, it shouldn't take the archangel of medicine to tell she's expecting, already." 

Raphael gapped at him. "You were worried about their safety!"

"Was not. Frankly, I have a feeling they'll commit more sins now that they have the sword," Azra declared, but Raphael knew his tells too well. 

He opted not to comment. 

It wasn't worth the pain of further rejections to his observations and statements. 

Overhead, the thunder crackled, lightning struck, and the sky opened up above them, raindrops angrily pelting down unforgivingly on the angel, the demon and the two humans.

Wordlessly, Azra lifted a coal-black wing and sheltered the archangel from the pouring rain. 

It was instinct that moved Raphael's feet closer to the demon he had once know.

_Present Day_

Azra couldn't figure out why the forces of hell had picked him for this. 

It was probably something Raphael had done the last time the archangel had handled one of his temptations. He did have a habit of accidentally going a little bit overboard, trying to sell that it was actually a demon. 

Like the M25. All Azra had told him to do was mess around with the construction workers, and now the London orbital motorway was shaped like the dread sigil odegra. 

Sure, it was awarded as one of Azra's greatest achievement. But it would have been nice if his greatest achievement had been something he had actually done. 

And hadn't gotten him roped into this hellish job. 

He had one hand gripping the support pole on the bus he was taking. He had never bothered with a vehicle before, and didn't intend to now. 

The bus driver wouldn't know why he drove out to the stupid cemetery in the middle of nowhere that Hastur and Ligur had demanded he meet them at. 

He didn't know why they wanted him there, but he knew if it was two Dukes of Hell, it wouldn't be good. 

And now the satan-forsaken bus was stuck in traffic. He was going to be late. Excellent. 

"All hail Satan."

"All hail Satan."

"All hail, well, yes, I think we get it, now, what did you want with-"

Ligur cut him off, his ever-changing eyes dark and irritated. "Let us recount the deeds of the day."

"Oh, of course, yes, the deeds of the day. Certainly have some of those. Well, let's hear it, shall we?" 

"I have tempted a priest," Hastur began boasting, a sick smile on his face. "As he walked down the street and saw all the… pretty girls. I have put doubt into his mind. He would have been a saint. Now, within a decade, we shall have him."

"Well, jolly good that is, can't have anymore sa-"

"I have corrupted a politian," Ligur declared, "convinced him that a… small bribe wouldn't hurt. Within a year, we shall have him."

"Oh, that is indeed a good one. Truly, well done-"

"And what did _you_ accomplish, Azra?" Ligur asked pointedly. 

Azra bit his lip. "Oh, me? You'll like this. I added another page to the tax return forms, one that humans will never understand how to fill out." 

Silence.

"It was hard to convince them to add it when it wasn't necessary!"

"What has it done to secure souls for our master?" Hastur asked. 

"Just think about it! It's like the M25, but at taxes time! To add to the resentment and anger humans have all the time during their taxes, they'll be at each other's throats and on their way to us without even knowing it. It's perfect."

"It's hardly craftsmanship."

"Downstairs disagrees. So what are you here about?" Azra asked, starting to get fed up with this conversation.

"This."

A basket was thrust into Azra's hand. 

He stared down at it. 

It _moved_ in his hand. Like something was alive within it. "Is that-" Azra asked, voice choking off in the middle. 

"Yes."

"Already?"

"Yes." 

"Why me?" Azra asked, staring at the ground. 

"Because of your work with the M25, of course. They love you down there!" Hastur laughed. "You ought to be flattered, Azra. Ligur here would give his right arm to be you tonight!" 

" _Someone's_ right arm. And _don't_ let that archangel find out. We need to keep heaven out of this for as long as we can." 

"Are you _certain_ you can continue handling the archangel?"

"Duke Hastur, I've been dealing with Raphael since the beginning. I've been on earth since the beginning."

"So has he." 

"I'll be fine. So, where am I taking the br- our soon-to-be lord?"

"You will receive your instructions."

Wonderful.

He had no sooner hopped back onto the bus and received strangled instructions from the bus driver to bring the baby to the birthing hospital outside of Tadfield that he pulled out the old, practically antique phone Raphael had insisted he get because he was "hellishly hard to get ahold of" and dialled the archangel.

Raphael was honestly just taking a quick break for some coffee. 

Most human foods didn't interest him, although Azra loved to drag him out to try different things, but he understood why humans liked coffee. 

Of course, what he normally ordered hardly counted as coffee, he likely had far more sugar in it than actual coffee, but he did enjoy this one indulgence. 

And after six thousand years working on earth, doing what he was told, mostly, he allowed himself the occasional indulgence. 

After all this time. It hadn't been that simple when he had first been assigned. 

The angel closed his eyes, inhaled the smell of peppermint and chocolate and coffee beans, didn't take a sip yet, and opened his eyes. 

"Gabriel!" 

He just about knocked the coffee on the ground jumping in surprise. 

"Raphael. Hard at work, I see." 

There was disapproval in Gabriel's violet eyes. Raphael squirmed under the look he was getting. "Just a quick break, honest. I'll be back to work before you know-"

"Why do you drink _that?"_

Raphael sighed. "It's nice! You should try it!"

"I will not sully the temple of my celestial body, Raphael. Sometimes I wonder if you've been down here too long."

Another frosty violet look. Raphael chewed on his lip. "You know this is where the Metatron wants me, Gabriel. They made that quite clear." 

"Yes yes, of course. I know. But sometimes you seem to be going… _native._ It is a cause for concern."

"You have a nice suit!" Raphael tried, wondering if a distraction was going to get him out of this awkward conversation with his brother. "Is it new?"

"Yes, I'll give the humans that, I like the _clothes._ Pity they won't be around much longer."

Raphael's mouth went dry. "You mean… this soon?"

Gabriel laughed, but it wasn't a funny laugh. "Soon? Brother, it's been six thousand years! I should think you would be eager to spread your wings and well… perhaps perform a little more loyally during the upcoming war. Make up for last time." 

"I couldn't have known I was doing anything wrong, Gabriel. I was simply doing what I was made to do."

"I know. You told the Metatron the same thing, six thousand years ago. But this time you know better."

There were paragraphs unsaid after that, paragraphs that didn't need to be spoken.

"I suppose I do." 

"Either way. We have… reliable intel that… _things_ are afoot. Our sources say that the demon Azra is involved. That's not going to be a _problem,_ is it?" Gabriel's voice went sharp.

Raphael felt like someone had kicked the air out of his lungs. He took a second to regain his composure, plaster a gentle smile on his face. "It hasn't been a problem for the last six thousand years." 

Gabriel's smile was much less gentle than his brother's. "We weren't this close to the end six thousand years ago, Raphael. So close to Heaven _finally_ triumphing over Hell."

As if the point hadn't been driven deep enough, Gabriel continued. "So close to the destruction of the demons. The destruction of-"

"I know! I know, the death of Satan and all the demons, including the one that I _used_ to know! Six thousand years ago!"

"Is that going to be a _problem_ , Raphael?" 

The archangel grit his teeth. "No."

Instantly, Gabriel's voice brightened. "Excellent. Keep the demon under observation. Without being spotted."

"I haven't been spotted yet."

"That's a miracle. Although, I suppose miracles are what we do!" 

Raphael nodded. 

And just like that, Gabriel was gone. 

Raphael took a sip of his coffee, but found it tasted more like ash than anything else. 

With a sigh, he pushed it to the side and crumpled his face into his arms. 

The end was upon them.

His phone started ringing. 

Raphael forced himself back upright, pulled the phone out of his pocket. 

It was Azra. 

He tapped the button, held the phone to his ear. 

"Raphael. We need to talk."

"I rather think we do. I assume you're calling about-"

"Armageddon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to review & kudo, and I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can!


	2. Quarter Past Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Quarter Past Midnight](https://youtu.be/aGjIN8x6-xg)

_ And now we're crawling up the walls again, _

_ And it's a quarter past twelve, _

_ And you said we'd leave this place in dust, _

_ And fall from heaven straight through hell _

"I'm _not_ doing it, Azra. There's no way I can help you. Heaven expects me to stay out of this, keep you under observation but not interfere!" Raphael protested, taking another sip of the wine Azra had poured him.

They were in the back of Azra's bookshop, the archangel was sprawled across the couch and the only reason his white jeans weren't stained with red wine was a miracle that he had to hope Gabriel wouldn't notice. 

Azra had just finished laying out his plan for how they were going to stop Armageddon. 

It sounds like a good plan. Raphael couldn't deny that he wanted to do it. 

But he couldn't. 

He had to do what Gabriel told him to. 

"This one is really good, Azra," he started, trying to get away from the subject. "Which one was this again?"

"Chateauneuf du Pape. I don't believe you'll be able to get it in heaven, Raphael."

"I told you, I can't help you!" 

"And think about what it will cost! Sea boiling, stars crashing down to earth… didn't you put some of those up there? I doubt the animals will appreciate them as much when they fall to the ground and incinerate them. And I hardly believe that the fish will enjoy the seas being turned into bou- b- bouy-" 

"B- bouyi- fish stew."

"Exactly!" Azra reasoned. "All the innocent creatures will die in this, and for what? So that Heaven and Hell can have a big war to see who's best?"

"We will win," Raphael said.

"And what a miserable time that will be for you. Not big on wine in heaven. Or peppermint mochas. Or that infernal band you car plays."

"You cursed my car to only play Queen. I- I don't even really like their music. You and I both know I prefer classical music."

"Bach, Beethoven, Mozart… they're all ours. If heaven wins, you'll never hear them again. Just _The Sound of Music_ , over and over again, on repeat. C'you 'magine spendin' eternity listenin' to _The Sound of Music?"_

Raphael grimaced. "I haven't got a choice. I can't di- diser- not do what I'm told. I'm an angel! I- I'm an archangel!"

There were consequences involved beyond what would happen to him if he disobeyed the orders of heaven. 

Azra sighed. "Sober up, Raphael. I- this is important, and I don't thin' y'll get into trouble."

Raphael sighed, but set down his wine glass and concentrated on forcing the alcohol out of his system. The best way to get Azra to stop would be to hear him out.

He scrapped his tongue along his teeth as the sour taste filled his mouth. "Ugh. You too, if this is so important."

Azra grit his teeth and did the same. He pulled a face. 

"Alright, now will you just listen to me, Raphael?" 

The angel groaned. "Why are you so insistent on this, Azra?" 

"Because we've only got eleven years until it's all over! We have eleven years until one side is destroyed and one side is condemned to a life in their head office. Is that what you want?"

Raphael didn't answer. 

He couldn't answer. Gabriel needed him not to answer. Gabriel relied on him not answering and he could do what he liked with his own fate but he couldn't destroy Gabriel's. Not the brother who had saved him.

"You want to spend eternity back in Heaven? Don't lie to me, Raphael, you'll be miserable there!" 

"Azra, I told you! I'm not helping, this was supposed to be purely social. And anyways, what is your point. This is the divine plan, it's ineffable-"

"Don't you use that word around me."

"And I can't interfere with it! This is how the world has to end and I don't have to like it for it to be true." 

"You're not interfering with the great plan. The plan for me to bring up the Antichrist is a _diabolical_ plan. And while we can't do anything about the fact that the Antichrist is born, and honestly, that sounds like it would please you. But it's the _upbringing_ that matters," Azra said. 

"I know. You have to bring him up to be just like his father."

"But it would certainly be too bad if a certain archangel were to interfere with the diabolical plan. Step in to help and be a _good_ influence. You're _meant_ to thwart my wiles that's why you're down here, if Heaven didn't care about stopping us you would have been recalled long ago, archangel that you are."

If only that were true. Raphael being on earth was a mutually beneficial arrangement for Heaven and for the angel himself.

"So what are you saying."

"I'm saying if you were to… sneak along and thwart me, Heaven couldn't actually get mad at you. That is what you're meant to do, after all." 

"So you think it would be good."

"I think it would be a real feather in your wing, to report that you're influencing the Antichrist child towards the light." Azra gave him a look, blue eyes daring him to disagree. 

"I suppose that Gabriel couldn't be angry about that… the Metatron couldn't mind…"

"We'd be godfathers, sort of. If we do it right, he won't be evil. Or good. And the apocalypse will be averted." 

Raphael pondered that. "Godfathers. Well I'll be damned."

"It's not that bad, when you get used to it."

She would have been better off damned, as far as Raphael was concerned, as she fought to get the curler back out of her hair. God knew why she had put it in to start with, she could curl her hair with a miracle and since it was for a human disguise, Gabriel couldn't object, but now it was stuck. Its little hooks had hold of a tangle and would not let go. 

True, she could have used a curling iron. But it Gabriel was going to be paying attention since it was the start of the end, she needed to act properly, and curlers gave her an excuse to sleep through the night that she didn't otherwise have. He'd had some objections to her 19th century nap.

After one final tug and the sound of snapping hairs, the curler was finally out, and Raphael could continue with the rest of the disguise. 

She fixed a white hat upon her head, glared at it in the mirror as if to warn it not to fall off. 

Tugged on thick stockings she had left over from the nineteen twenties, there was no way she was risking getting mixed up with someone the humans would be interested in. Avoiding that had kept her in a male form for most of the last century, and she very much missed the all-concealing gowns of the 18th century. 

Not that she was truly that concerned about her modesty, but she didn't enjoy the way men looked at her in some of today's clothes.

Truly, the skirts of the sixties had been doomed from the start, she had to admit. 

So she wore thick wool stockings, a white pencil skirt that went well past her knees, a soft pink dress shirt that matched the stockings. 

Slipped her sunglasses back on, a similar pink as the shirt, what could she say she'd taken a fancy to the colour. They were mirror-shaded or they would never hide her snake eyes.

She'd been wearing sunglasses since the humans had made them.

On her way out, she grabbed a white coat to go over everything, and climbed into the front seat of her car. 

It was a car that she had owned from new, and indeed the same car that Azra had once gotten annoyed at her during the nineties and cursed to play nothing but Queen. She probably could have fixed it with a miracle, but as much as it was annoying, it added to the car's charm. 

It was blue, quite a dull colour compared to some of the shades of other decades, but it hadn't been changed since she bought it. Black leather seats, and was quite dark for what Raphael normally chose, but she had loved this car from the moment she had seen it. 

She stopped by Azra's bookshop to pick him up. "How did you get the gardener, anyways? I'm the one with plants!" She asked. 

"I told you, you agreed last so I got first pick of the roles. Besides, you'll be a great nanny! You love kids!" 

"I don't get a lot of chances to be around kids. Most miracles for them I don't get to talk to them for. Moses, for example. Just got to make the river be cooperative," Raphael sighed, put the car in first gear and set off towards the Dowling residence. 

"You seemed to like them at the ark. Kept them playing while the rain was falling. Laughing until they started drowning, and the angel wouldn't save them."

The demon's voice grew pointed. 

Raphael looked downcast, away from the road. "You know I had no choice, Azra. It was the will of God. The divine plan."

"There's always a choice, Raphael."

"Yes there is. One that leads to black wings, and one that doesn't."

They didn't talk for the rest of the drive.

As first impressions go, Raphael wasn't impressed by the Dowlings.

She introduced herself as Anne, short for Anthonia, which in turn matched up with the name she tended to use when she needed a fake, Anthony.

Not that it mattered, she suspected she would be going by Nanny for most of her employ.

The boy was a darling little thing, all gold curls and blue eyes and if she used a quick miracle to sooth him when she picked him up, well who would be the wiser? She did want to impress. 

Unlike Warlock's parents. 

Mister Dowling was not present. He had been, in form of video call, for about two minutes before he had been called away. 

He didn't seem the fatherly type. 

Missus Dowling just seemed disinterested. She was eager to get a nanny to drop the kid off on and get back to her life. She had little concern for his wellbeing, nevermind happiness. 

Raphael found she took a liking to the boy without even meaning to. She surely wasn't supposed to get attached, but the poor dear just needed someone to care about him. 

"So, Miss- I'm afraid I didn't get your last name."

"Just Anne will do fine, dear."

Dear was not really something Raphael tended to say. She supposed she must have picked it up from Azra. 

"Alright, Miss Anne, might I ask why you haven't removed your glasses?" Missus Dowling asked. "We're indoors."

"I'm afraid my eyes are rather sensitive to light. I hope you don't mind if I keep them on, it can be quite painful to remove them," she lied. 

Raphael didn't like to think of things as lying, though. As a general rule, she was supposed to value the truth above most else, but in situations like these, it was inevitable. She couldn't rightly take the glasses off, now could she? 

"Apart from the glasses, do you have any concerns about my qualifications?" She pressed, although she had already been assured that Azra had conveniently ensured that they would get their respective positions without difficulty, and she really didn't have to ask. Still, it never hurt to put on a show outside of confidence. 

"No, no, you seem quite capable. Warlock hasn't been this quiet in ages. I'm quite prepared to offer you the job."

"Oh, that's delightful! When would you have me start?"

"I know this sounds desperate, Miss Anne, but could you start today?" Missus Dowling asked, glancing between her son, or rather, the Antichrist, and the angel before her. 

Despite the fact that Raphael could clearly tell Missus Dowling was just dying to get Warlock out of her way and resented her for it, she gave a gentle smile. "Of course, dear."

"Warlock, what does Brother Francis have you doing today?" 

Raphael really was concerned. Some of Azra's ideas weren't all that terrible, some were preachy à la Revelations portion of the Bible, and some were gruesome. 

The angel was fairly convinced that this was going to be gruesome, from the way her demonic friend was pointing at something on the ground. 

However, pencil skirts and stockings that still needed garters to keep up did not make it easy to run across the estate yard and and find out what it was, and she also knew that she couldn't really stop it, even if she wanted it to. 

It couldn't be only good influences. She had to let Azra provide his own influences to the boy. 

It didn't mean she had to be happy when she walked over to a collection of slowly shriveling slugs, with Warlock clutching a salt shaker in his pudgy five-year old hand.

"Brother Francis, what is going on over here?" She asked, waiting for a slight nod of approval from Azra to gently pluck the salt shaker out of his hand. 

"Brother Francis taught me to kill slugs!" 

"We're just looking after the garden, Miss Anne," Azra said convincingly. 

"Of course. Well, when you're done your science experiment, Warlock, I'll have a snack ready for you in the kitchen. No running off, okay?"

"Okay Nanny!" 

As she was walking away, she heard Warlock say something. "Brother Francis, Nanny told me never to destroy living beings. Isn't a slug a living being?"

"Oh, dear Warlock. You're going to rule the world and crush all living things under your heel! So don't you listen to Nanny, listen to me." 

Raphael shook her head and walked into the kitchen to cut up some carrot sticks. 

After a few minutes, Warlock walked into the kitchen. "Snack time Nanny?" 

"Indeed, Warlock."

While he munched on carrot sticks, Raphael told him a story, a happy story with a happy ending. A friendly ending.

"You see? And this is why you must be kind to all living things, Warlock. You should hold them in your heart with love and reverence."

"Brother Francis says I should crush all living beings under my heel, Nanny."

"Well, don't you listen to him. Listen to me."

  
  


"So let me get this straight, Raphael. Your report is that you've decided to try and turn the Antichrist towards the light." 

Raphael didn't like that she had to do her reports in Heaven. 

She especially didn't like that she had to do it in front of all of her siblings. Even the one she barely knew, who had been born after the fall and after she had been sent to work on earth with the unwritten term of no possibility of reassignment. 

But there they were, all lined up. The first few times, there had been a gap where she used to stand, right between Michael and Gabriel, but it wasn't there anymore. They had grown accustomed to her absence. 

Now they stood in front of her, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel and Sandalphon. 

"That is my report. I had thought you would be happy! The other side has no idea I'm there, and perhaps we can avoid the end altogether!"

"I knew you couldn't handle it! You can't handle the idea of a final war so you're trying to avoid it!"

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Gabriel," Michael began, placing a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Perhaps we ought to consider that what our sister is doing is admirable, not selfish. The Metatron sent her to be heaven's champion of the humans, and she's trying to keep them alive. Even if what she's doing is doubtlessly doomed to failure, she may as well try. One could argue that her duty commands her to try to save the world, to an extent." 

"I'm quite certain that Raphael knows by now that Azra is beyond salvation," Uriel reasoned. Raphael grit her teeth. 

She didn't exactly like being lectured by the younger sibling who hadn't even quite known what was going on with Azra when he was Aziraphale, never mind the trouble Gabriel had gotten her out of.

The only thing worse was Sandalphon, who had no right to know any of it.

"Does she?" Gabriel dared to ask. 

"Of course I do! I've been working against him for the last six thousand years."

Her brother sighed. 

He didn't look convinced. "Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, would you give us a minute?" 

Wordlessly, the other archangels obliged. 

"You know what your screwups entail, Raphael. For both of us, not just for you. I can't let you do anything to jeopardize the both of us," Gabriel hissed. 

"I know, brother, and you know what that meant to me. _Means_ to me. You saved me from a fate worse than death and I know you put your head on the chopping block to do it, I won't do anything to ruin that," Raphael promised. Wrung one of her hands. "I wouldn't even let Azra ruin that. But you know it's hard to hate him when I-"

"I know, Raphael. I'm sorry I was harsh. If this feels like something you have to do, then keep up the good work. I trust your judgement."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to review & kudo, and I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can!


	3. Nobody Can Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Nobody Can Save Me](https://youtu.be/FY9v147BZuE)

_ Stare into this illusion, _

_ For answers yet to come, _

_ I chose a false solution, _

_ But nobody proved me wrong _

"I thought you told me there would be a hellhound, Azra?" Raphael said, ducking under a clump of flying cake and nearly nailed their red hair to make it impossible to brush for a week and three showers. 

Azra had not managed to avoid the cake, seeing as how the children had started by pelting him for the lame awful magic tricks. 

Azra could do real magic, Raphael knew he could do magic. Why did his waste his time with mundane slight-of-hand? 

"That's what I was told!" Azra protested. "Can't you do a miracle and stop me getting pelted?"

"Too obvious if both of us are clean. Come on, we need to go somewhere you can check in. Maybe we can get your boss to possess Freddie Mercury again."

"Anything to make your car not play that band."

"It's your fault that's all it will play. If you hadn't cursed it, I wouldn't be desperate to even get a demon through the radio if it's not Radio Ga-Ga. Honestly, it was bad enough in the eighties when they were still making music, but ever since the AIDS crisis and the lead singer dying it's been nothing but repeats! For the last thirty years!" Raphael cried. 

"Why don't you go and get a new stereo?" 

"I have. You're not getting in my car like that, clean yourself up. I'll never get the icing out if you get in like that. And the bird that was in your coat is dead." 

Azra sighed. He snapped his fingers and the icing disappeared. 

Then he pulled the dove out of his coat and handed it to Raphael. "Well, you're the archangel of healing, fix it." 

Raphael sighed. "Healing is not rebirth," they protested, even as they tapped its chest and threw it back into the air. 

"But yet you still did it." 

Raphael sighed and opened the door to their car, slipped into the driver's seat and turned on the radio. 

_These are the days of our lives,_

_Bad things in life were so few,_

Raphael groaned. "Talk so that he'll stop, please."

Azra cleared his throat. "Just checking in about the hellhound," he began. 

_"He should be with you by now. Is something_ wrong, _Azra?"_

The demon went pale. "No, no, nothing's wrong, what could possibly be wrong? I can see him now. Nice chat!"

Raphael flipped off the radio before Freddie Mercury could start again. "No hellhound."

"No hellhound. Must have been the wrong boy."

 _"Wrong boy."_ Raphael repeated. 

How in all of creation were they going to tell Gabriel they had spent the last eleven years wasting their time? That there had been no honourable attempt to save the world, just a lot of fucking around with the demon they weren't supposed to be anywhere near. 

They groaned and flopped back against their seat. 

"Why are _you_ upset, I'm the one who failed hell!"

"And I failed my _brother."_

"Your _younger_ brother. How did he wind up in charge of you and Michael, anyways?" 

Although they knew the answer, Raphael just shrugged. They weren't going to get into the conditions of their arrangement with Gabriel with the demon who had been part of the reason for said arrangement. 

Besides, they didn't know how Gabriel had wound up in charge of Michael. Not a lie. 

"What's the worst Gabriel is going to do, send you a strongly worded note like he did during the reign of terror?" 

Raphael didn't answer, they didn't feel like actually discussing what Gabriel could do. They simply put the car in gear and drove off. "I'll drop you off at the shop. We have a few days before the end of the world, maybe one of us can figure something else out."

"You didn't _know_ about this switch, did you, Raphael? It would be just like heaven to manage to switch out the Antichrist."

"Of course not! You think everything I did as Anne was an act?" 

"I don't know, I know Anne did more of the gardening for Brother Francis." 

"I didn't know, Azra. Trust me, I'm an angel. Would I lie to you?" 

"You lie far more often than you want anyone to know, Raphael. But I assume you aren't lying right now." 

Raphael didn't say anything to that. They just continued to drive to Azra's bookshop. 

Azra contemplated them, pupil-less blue eyes narrowed. "I believe you. What do we do now?" 

Raphael shrugged their shoulders. "Would I be as freaked out as I am if I had an idea of what to do? Where did the baby switch happen, anyways?" 

"Little birthing hospital outside of Tadfield. She was supposed to deliver in a military hospital at the airbase, but it conveniently wasn't ready for her, so our man on the ground sent her to the satanic nuns." 

_"Satanic nuns._ Now I've heard everything. Did they keep records?" 

"It's possible. I have business to attend to, we can go investigate tomorrow. Gives you a chance to lie to your little brother." 

"I'm not lying to Gabriel."

"Really? Does he know that I know you're here? Or that it wasn't your idea to look after the Antichrist?" 

Raphael didn't answer. 

They didn't need to. Azra gave a smug little smile. 

The angel sighed and put the car in park outside of Azra's bookshop. "Give me a call this evening if you have another idea, okay?" 

"Will do, angel." 

The demon hopped out and Raphael sped away. 

They pushed open the door to their flat, snapped their fingers to turn on the lights, and instantly tripped over a flowerpot they had _not_ meant to leave lying in front of the door. 

"Ugh." 

It was their own fault, the flat was nothing if not cluttered. Azra couldn't believe that it got so untidy in the flat without any books, despite the fact that Raphael had told him repeatedly that the absence of books was simply because their eyes were not made for reading. 

Snakes didn't have to read. 

But there were all sorts of other things in the flat.

For one, there were flowerpots everywhere. Succulents, cacti, flowers, ferns. You name it, Raphael grew it. 

They missed Heaven's garden. It was nice to have a bit of their own. 

Of course, the growing specifications were a little different than those in heaven. 

After all, in heaven everything had been love and encouragement.

And Raphael's arrangement with Gabriel and the Almighty was proof that said form of nurture didn't work. 

After all, that was all they had ever received, and they had turned out pretty disappointingly. 

So, that wasn't how they raised the plants. 

The plants were raised how they were treated _now._

With the distinct possibility of failure enforced. 

After fifty years of looking after plants and talking to them, they had gotten the message. Raphael rarely had to actually effect a consequence. 

Aside from the plants, there were all sorts of from various momentoes around the flat. 

A first draft of the Mona Lisa hung on a wall, a statue of an angel and a demon carved for them by a friend was in the corner, an old manuscript they couldn't read from Shakespeare, of an unpublished play. 

Azra didn't know they had that, or the demon would have talked them into giving it to him by now. 

Raphael leaned down and picked up the flowerpot they had tripped on. It was a cactus, there were a few spines hooked into their white jeans they had switched the waitstaff outfit for the moment they could. "You be careful now," they said quietly, "wouldn't want to disappoint anyone." 

It was entirely their fault the plant had wound up on its side, soil spilled on the floor and cactus now at an angle, but they still spoke like the fault rested with the little plant. "After all, you know what happens to plants that don't do as they're told, that disappoint." 

They stuck the pot on a nearby shelf, picked up a small cup of water and gave the plant some. 

Picked their way into their main room, the only one they bothered to keep clean because it was the only one Gabriel went in. 

And sure enough, two of their brothers were already waiting for them. "Gabriel, Sandalphon, how can I help you?" 

"We're just checking in, Raphael. Making sure nothing is going wrong."

"Wrong? Do you suspect anything had gone wrong?" 

"Oh no, it seems a lot of stuff is happening, but all of it is good. How was the hellhound?"

"Didn't stick around to see it." 

The lie slipped off their tongue without even meaning to. "So what is happening? You said it was all good?"

"Well, all according to the Great Plan. You know, the dog was named, the four horsemen are being summoned, and I almost have the all-clear from the Metatron to summon _you_ back to active duty! You've been down here far too long, I can tell just by looking at you."

Raphael didn't even bother to protest that. "Who exactly summons the four horsemen?" 

"Eh, we outsource that sort of thing these days. Raphael, could I speak to you privately for a moment?" 

The angel did not want to agree, but they nodded, stepped out into the hall so their brother could speak to them.

"The Metatron sent instructions for your return. And conditions." 

Of course they had. "What are they?" 

They got handed a stack of papers. They could feel the headache from trying to read them all budding before they even started. "I know spite is not a virtue but sometimes I think they send me these things out of spite." 

"Don't say that. Besides, I read it for you. Basically just come back with everything that was issued to you and report for active duty. The conditions won't be a problem for you," Gabriel said, shooting them a smile. "You know, in some way you might be right about the letters. I feel as though it's their reminder for you." 

"I'm sure it is. Not that I need another, with the current one staring at me in the mirror." 

"It could be far worse than snake eyes, Raphael." 

"I know." 

Their brother contemplated them. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

It was the first time Raphael thought they heard genuine sympathy in Gabriel's voice. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"You can't fool me, Raphael. Maybe Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon but not me. I know you still have feelings for him."

Raphael sighed. "It's easier since he doesn't remember. Can't use it against me. I'll be alright. Truly, for the version of him I remember, the end will be a blessing." 

The lie threatened to choke them. But Gabriel seemed to buy it. 

"No one will blame you if you avoid them during the final battle. Not even the Metatron." 

"I know. It's just- I was supposed to meet him in the garden. That day. And yes I know I had my own problems and didn't have a choice but to miss him but-"

"You feel responsible." 

Raphael nodded. 

"Azra made his choices, and you made yours. This isn't your fault."

The angel nodded. 

Gabriel appeared satisfied with that reaction. "I really must be getting back. I'll see you soon, Raphael. And do clean some of this up before you leave?" 

"I'll try." 

_6000 years ago_

"So, I'll see you in the garden, right?" 

Raphael smiled at the angel in front of him, blue eyes clear, a smile so wide and bright it should have hurt the archangel's eyes.

"What, you think I would stand you up? Couldn't stand up an Archangel, now could I?" Aziraphale asked teasingly. 

"Oh, come on now, don't do that to me. I've never ordered you around like an Archangel in your life." 

"I know, Raphael, I'm teasing you. I'll see you there, go look after whatever the Almighty has assigned you to. I'm sure it's more important than visiting a principality."

"According to the Almighty, yes. If you were to ask the Archangel that has to do it…"

"Oh, come now, that's blasphemy! Go do your task, I'll be waiting for you in the Garden unless I'm assigned something."

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Raphael rolled his golden eyes, tossed the staff they held from hand to hand a couple of times. 

"That doesn't look like going, Raphael," Aziraphale laughed. 

"Fine, fine." He spun around only to spin back. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. Now get going! I'm sure whatever you're meant to be doing can't wait." 

Raphael was sure he was right. It never could wait. 

Of course, this one was just fixing up a fault he had left in one of the stars he had made, but Mother was being very insistent that everything be well cleaned up and perfect when the humans joined the world. 

He didn't actually view it as a fault, but the Almighty insisted that it was, so he had to go fix it. 

He was allowed some creativity in the stars, but apparently not in that particular one. She said it was important. Would be important over the course of human history. 

So he obligingly walked up to the gallery, pulled down the star he needed and set to work. 

Normally he would actually go in person, but he didn't feel he had the time today, so he fixed it on the mirror model in the gallery, knowing it would be fixed in the sky, too. 

He was most of the way through when Gabriel walked in. "Oh good, you are here. I was afraid you had blown off another instruction from the Almighty."

"Who, me?" Raphael asked with feigned innocence. "I always do what she tells me, it just depends on when!" 

"I know, brother." 

"When did you get so bossy, anyways, Gabriel? Aren't I your older brother?" Raphael asked, fiddling a bit with the internal workings of the star. He needed to get it right so that he didn't have to come back.

"Oh, I know, don't worry. You and Michael and Samael. All older than me, all like to pretend you're in charge."

"Samael hardly bothers with any of us lately," Raphael allowed, giving the star a flick back to where it was supposed to sit. "Has more important things to deal with, I'm sure." 

He stood up, stretched his back and wings, plucked an errant blue feather from the one. "Were you looking for me for a reason, brother?" 

"Just missed you. You've been spending a lot of time away from us lately, Raphael." 

Raphael sighed. "I know I have. I'm sorry, brother, just other things on my mind."

"Other things or other angels?" Gabriel asked, laughing. 

"Oh, hush. He's just a good friend."

"Oh, no need to be embarrassed and lie to me, Raphael, honesty is a virtue! Really, it's fine. Cute even. It would just be nice to see you around more often."

"I'll try to make that happen. However, I already made plans for right now, so I'll be off," Raphael said. 

"Say hello to the principality for me!" 

"Oh, shut up, Gabriel." 


	4. Curtain Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Curtain Fall](https://youtu.be/EHKzTCgh3U8)

_Where white and black collide,_

_Ground one foot either side,_

_You're bleeding out your options,_

_No more words of caution_

"Do you remember where the hospital is, Azra?" 

"I'm almost insulted, Raphael, of course I remember where it is! It's just a little bit further up this road, so keep driving." 

Raphael shook his head, throwing some of his hair out of his face, and kept going at the demon's insistence. 

He had been driving, far faster than he should have, down the winding twisting road that Azra had directed him to. 

But after so long of not finding anything of note, nevermind a birthing hospital, he was starting to lose faith in the demon's instructions. 

A small trickle of doubt started to worm its way into his mind. 

What if this was a trick? 

It wasn't that he believed Azra would outright lie to him. It was more that he believed hell would have made this plan and forced the demon to cooperate. 

What if hell had wanted Raphael to waste his time looking after the fake Antichrist, knew where the real one was, and Azra was sending him on a wild goose chase? 

He was just about to voice a concern and turn around when Azra pointed. "There it is! Only, where are all the nuns?" 

Raphael looked out over the grounds. He also couldn't spot any nuns, satanic or otherwise. 

And there was a strange feeling about the place. "Are you sure this is the right hospital?" He asked, stepping out of the car and closing the door. He gave a satisfied smile when Freddie's voice cut off mid-word.

_You got mud on your face,_

_You big disgra-_

Maybe not as smug, given the song line that had been thrown at him.

"Of course I am! Why do you doubt me?" Azra asked. 

"Well, you said this was a church of satanic nuns, right?" 

"Yes."

"And what do hell's most valued traits happen to be? Something about lust and pride…"

"Lust, pride, gluttony, envy, wrath, sloth and greed. What of it? Isn't yours something like chastity, humility, temperance, kindness, patience, diligence and charity? Ours sound more fun, to be honest."

"They are, but the virtues are irrelevant right now. It's just that… as opposed to feeling satanic, this place feels _loved."_

Azra frowned. Took a look around. "Nope, this is definitely the place. What the hell do you mean, loved?"

"It feels loved! Like, I don't know, maybe you can sense when things are spooky? This is loved."

"Whatever. Let's go talk to some nuns."

Azra had only made it a few steps before he collapsed. Before Raphael could ask what happened, something hit him in the chest and he tumbled to the ground. 

He'd had this corporation for the last six thousand years, and it was going to be really hard to explain how he had lost it _now._

"Blue?" Azra sounded confused. Reached around his coat to see that whatever was leaking from the wound was blue. 

Raphael looked down. 

His was red, but it was starting to hurt less than it should have. 

He dipped a finger into it. 

Licked the finger. "It's paint."

It was going to take a miracle to get the red out of his pink shirt and white coat. And Gabriel wouldn't be impressed with that form of miracle. 

But, he might as well get it over with. With a snap of his fingers, he vanished the stains from both his and Azra's clothes. The demon would be upset if something stained his coat, he'd owned it for nearly two hundred years. 

"Hey! I don't know what you think you're playing at, but you two are out!" 

Raphael sighed, tapped his tattoo and flung a white and gold snake at the ground. 

The snake hissed, made to strike. The man screamed and dropped to the ground. 

Raphael sighed and lifted the snake off the ground. "I'll never understand why humans are so afraid of you, lovely thing that you are," he sighed, allowed it to wrap around his arm, up his sleeve until it melted back into his skin and resumed its place on his temple. 

That was how he could get his staff, if he needed it, but most often the snake would do. 

He had once given the staff to a Hebrew man who had sought to free the Hebrew people from Egypt. It had looked different than it did in his hand, a simple staff of wood, but it had become a snake in the Egyptian court. 

The same Hebrew man he had blessed the turbulent waters of the Nile to protect, that he would not drown and would find a safe home when the Egyptians were killing the children. 

Azra gave him a look. "I could have handled him." 

"What, by showing off your demon face and scaring the life out of him? I think Crowley did a good enough job of that," Raphael replied. "Besides, he needs to get out to stretch sometimes."

"Isn't he just _you?"_

"Not quite, though he does _look_ like me in that form. But no, I am not the snake that lives on my staff. That's Crowley."

"I can't believe you _named_ the snake on the staff God gave you in the beginning of time."

"Of course I did! Was hardly right not to!" Raphael protested. "Now come on, let's go talk to your nuns." 

Azra huffed and walked into the building. 

Raphael was getting the distinct feeling this was no longer a place where nuns lived, satanic or not. 

He grabbed a pamphlet off the wall. "Leadership and team building exercizes. Deals on ammo for large groups. Azra, this isn't a birthing hospital, it's a paintball range!" Raphael cried. 

"It was a paintball range."

The sudden loud popping outside gave Raphael the feeling that now it was a range for something entirely different. 

"What did you do?" He demanded. 

"Well, they were wanting real guns, so I gave them what they wanted!" 

Raphael's blood ran cold. "They're out there shooting each other with real guns?"

"Oh, come on, the archangel, _Healer of God_ is here. I doubt people can pass away in your presence, even humans." 

Bile rose in the angel's throat as he remembered helplessly watching blood pour from too many wounds to count of an angel he had called a friend during the great war. Pushing hands over the wounds, saying every prayer he could think of, trying every healing method he knew and blood poured from other wounds as fast as he could try to seal one, his fingers went numb with effort, his own power draining faster than he could force life back into the angel before him, even as he could feel Azreal tugging the life away from him, gently as he could. 

They weren't enemies. Azreal wasn't there to thwart Raphael, only to do his job, but Raphael had fought against him for the first life taken with everything he had. Dug in his nails and refused to hand the life over, and it wasn't like Death could blame him. The angel had never failed to heal anyone before, and he couldn't bear to let go and let Death take his friend. He'd fought until he couldn't feel his hands, his core felt numb and tears of blood poured from his eyes and ran from his nose like a faucet.

Michael had pulled him away. There had been no time for grief, no time for comfort, she had given him some of her strength alone and sent him back out to try again, still covered in the angel's and his own blood, dripping into the collar of his robe.

Raphael had bled before, but not like that.

They hadn't even exchanged a word, although Raphael had been inches from breaking down and he knew she knew. 

It was the first life the Archangel Raphael failed to save, but far from the last. 

"Change them back, Azra." 

"Oh, relax. I knew you were going to be a stickler, so I made it so that no one is dying. They're all having near escapes. You would have known if I hadn't, can't you sense when Death is near?" 

Raphael felt foolish for not realizing that Azreal was nowhere to be found. He didn't always know where Death was, but he always knew when he was nearby. 

"Can we just find your nuns and get out of here?" 

"What, no thank yous?"

"I'm not meant to thank you, but I suppose you really are quite a nice demon."

He didn't really feel like Azra was being nice, though.

His back slammed into the wall. Azra's fisted were curled into his jacket, nose centimeters from his, blue eyes boring into his sunglasses. "Don't say that. I'm a demon, I'm not nice, I'm never nice. Nice is a four-letter word-"

"Excuse me gentlemen, sorry to break up an intimate moment, but can I help you with something?" A woman asked. 

Azra released his lapels. "Sister Mary."

"Satan, demons preserve us, it's Master Azra." 

Raphael snapped his fingers. They couldn't afford time for explanations and blabbering, they needed answers. 

The former nun's face went blank. 

"Did you have to do that?" 

"What, did you have a better idea? Just say, excuse me ma'am, we're two supernatural entities looking for the notorious son of Satan, I was wondering if you might help us with our inquiries? Just ask your questions and move on!" Raphael's voice bordered on hysterical. He was surprised Azra didn't comment on how deep a nerve he seemed to have struck. 

"Alright, alright. Miss, you were a nun here about eleven years ago, correct?" 

"I was!" The nun said cheerfully. 

"What happened to the baby I gave you?" Azra asked. 

"I swapped him with the son of the American ambassador. He used to be ambassador to Swindon!" 

"What about the other child?" 

"Sister Theresa took the other baby away."

Raphael swallowed a hiss. "What about records? Surely you kept records!"

"Yes, we were very good at keeping records."

"Good! What happened to them?" 

"They were burned in the fire."

"Urr, Hastur!" Azra swore. 

Raphael sighed. "This was useless. We should go." 

He started walking away, leaving Azra to handle waking the nun up.

"Do you remember anything else about the baby? Anything at all?" 

"Yes," Mary said dreamily, and Raphael turned back around. 

"He had lovely little toesy-woesies."

Raphael finished walking out. 

_Mesopotamia, 3004 bc_

Raphael didn't much care for what was about to happen. 

And by didn't much care, they meant they hated the mere idea. Nevermind being forced to observe for Heaven's records. 

They were standing at a gate, wind blowing their red hair all around them, whipping their robe around their ankles. 

They had their staff in their hand, although the snake was wisely not upon it at the moment, so it just resembled a normal staff.

And they were watching animals climb two by two onto the Ark. 

"Raphael! Fancy meeting you here!" Azra said, and Raphael froze. 

Azra was not meant to be here. 

Azra was better than this, and knew that Raphael should be better than this, at least, he would know if he had his pre-fall memories. 

"What's all this? Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?" 

Raphael's throat was too dry to answer immediately. 

They took a pause, gave a long exhale. "God's a bit tetchy."

"Tetchy?" 

They bit their lip. "Wiping out the human race." 

"She's _what?"_

"Well, not all of them. Noah's family will all be fine, his sons, their wives, and it's just the locals… as far as I know, the Chinese, Australians and Native Americans haven't upset her."

"Yet."

Raphael didn't answer.

Azra looked around them. "All of them?" 

A group of children ran past, laughing and playing. "Not the kids, you can't kill kids?" 

Raphael still didn't answer. A look of disgust crossed Azra's face. "And you're allowing this? This is Holy? It sounds more like the sort of thing you would stop my side from doing!"

"I- I can't go against the orders of God." 

"Killing all the humans is the order of God?" 

"Azra, please, there's nothing I can do." 

"There's plenty you could do, if you weren't a coward!" 

The words stung. "And what are you doing about it, if it bothers you? I haven't betrayed heaven, unlike you. Leave me be, Azra. This is a grim enough task without you goading me. You'll not tempt me to disobey the Almighty." 

"I'm not trying to tempt you. Just trying to make you use your head," Azra muttered, and walked away. 

Out of the corner of their eye, Raphael saw a unicorn making a run for it. To be honest, no one had explained what the needing two of each creature had been about to them, so they just let it run. 

A raindrop fell upon their head. 

They thought back to the first rainfall. Azra's black wings had sheltered them from the drops. 

They looked over at the children again. 

They really couldn't leave them to drown. 

They walked over, decided that they had to let them drown but they could at least play a game with them.

Had to do what they were told, but they could at least give the children a happy last memory. 

They walked over, smiled down at the children. "Do you want to play a game?" They asked. 

The children were waist deep in the water. They had realized that this was not a game. They had started to realize that the rain was not going to stop. 

A few had ran for their parents. 

One had clung to the archangel for dear life. 

They had one set of wings out, wrapped around the child. Had pulled the child off the ground and bundled her in them arms. 

"Are you going to save us?" She asked quietly, barely heard over the thunder and the rain. "You're an angel, surely you must save us?" 

Surely they must. They couldn't allow children to die. 

Silently, they beat their wings once, shook the water from them and took to the sky. 

The little girl clung to them, allowed them to carry her into the sky, far away from the water. 

They perched upon an exposed cliff. Soon they would have to find the Ark, it would be the only thing above the water. But for now, this was safe. 

They crouched down, held the little girl to him. 

It had only been a few minutes when someone else appeared on the cliff face. 

They looked to the child, only to find she was unresponsive. 

So it had to be Gabriel, who would have frozen her. 

They laid her on the ground and stood, rain pouring from their shoulders. "Brother." 

"Raphael, you can't do this. The Metatron hadn't noticed this yet, but you can't save her. This is the will of God."

"She's a _child,_ Gabriel."

"I know. But it's the will of God. Here, return upstairs with me until the flood is over. It's going to hurt you to stay here, with Azreal so close."

Raphael could already sense the angel of Death. The younger children who hadn't found their parents were starting to find the water to be higher than their heads. It took every bit of their will not to dive off the cliff and rescue more from the gruesome fate that awaited them. 

"I can't leave them."

"You can't save them. Sit here with me, we'll go upstairs when the rain reaches this cliff. I'll stay with you through the worst of it. But you have to let her go."

Raphael didn't answer. They shut their eyes, felt hot tears follow the cold rain down their cheeks. 

When they opened them again, the girl was gone. Gabriel had a hand on their shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Raphael."


	5. Who Wants To Live Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Who Wants To Live Forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Jtpf8N5IDE)

_ There's no chance for us, _

_ It's all decided for us, _

_ This world has only one, _

_ Sweet moment set aside for us, _

_ Who wants to live forever? _

_ Who wants to live forever? _

"Was the stop at the bakery strictly necessary, Azra? You’ve gotten crumbs all over my seats.”

“I have not, I’m a very tidy eater and you don’t allow food in the Bentley," Azra corrected. "Besides, you wouldn't have that abomination you call coffee if we hadn't stopped. You know those are out of season, right?" 

"No one has ever told me that they're out of season, they always make it when I ask. Peppermint white chocolate mocha with whipped cream."

"Half the places you buy them from don't even make them, Raphael, you're just miracling and not noticing." 

"I do not accidentally miracle anything. My miracles are always intentional." 

"You do. It's summer. Peppermint mochas are a Christmas beverage." 

Raphael didn't answer that. He got the distinct feeling he had just been proved wrong. 

It wasn't like he was _aware_ he was doing it. "Do you have any other ideas? Clearly the nuns were a bust." 

"Well, we might get another human to find him. We won't be able to."

"Why can't _we_ find him? I can sense demonic presences, why not his?"

"He has a built-in cloaking device. Suspicion will slide off him like… whatever it is that water slides off of."

"Frogs." Raphael said confidently. "Like water off a frog's back."

"Are you sure about that, angel?" 

"Fairly sure. So what was your idea?" 

"We might get another _human_ to find him. They're very good at finding each other. I secured a group of humans who I could ask to search for him back in the sixties."

"They're not your church heist friends, are they?"

"No, of course not!"

"Alright, fine. I also have a group of human operatives. Do you think they ought to work together?" 

"Hell no. Mine are not very… well, they have their quirks. Politically speaking."

"I see," Raphael agreed. "Mine do too, but-"

Something slammed into the hood of his car. He stood on the breaks, tires screeching against the road. "I've hit someone," he gasped. 

"Technically, someone hit you," Azra corrected. 

Raphael didn't listen. He jumped out of the car, tapped the front as he passed to get the dent to work itself out, the headlight to flicker back to life. 

Rushed over to the person he had hit. A young woman and a bicycle. 

"How can you see anything? Snake eyes do not see in the dark, and you have your sunglasses on!" Azra snapped his finger and a flickering light appeared above the angel. 

"Really, Azra? What did you think, _let there be light?_ "

"How the hell did you do that?" The woman asked. 

Raphael sighed. "You've basically got it with hell, dear." He snapped his fingers and the light vanished. 

The woman looked more confused. "I- I think I hit my head."

"Yes you did," Raphael confirmed, laying a hand across her forehead and getting rid of the damage within her skull. "But there are no bones broken…" such was a fib, but he ran his fingers along her fractured arm, felt the bones meld back together.

Thankfully, he couldn't sense Azreal around, so if the woman had been in any danger of death, it had passed. 

He could at least have that off his conscience. Not that angels were really expected to have one of those. 

"My bike…" the women said faintly, as he picked her up off the ground and put her on her feet. 

Raphael turned to look at her vehicle. 

The bike tires were mangled, the frame bent. The angel sighed and picked it up off the ground, channeling a miracle into it to straighten it out, repair the chain and gears. "Where were you headed at this time of night, young lady?" 

"You're not offering her a _ride,_ are you, serpent? Your car doesn't have anywhere to put the bike!" 

Raphael laughed and gestured to his car. "Except for the bike rack," he said, as one was appearing. "So, miss, where will we be taking you?" 

"Back to the village. I'll give you directions." 

Raphael helped her climb into the back of his car, and climbed into the driver's seat. 

The evil look on Azra's face told him that the radio was going to be misbehaving again. 

_Bicycle! Bicycle!_

_I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike-_

"Seriously, Azra? This was the best thing you could come up with? I'm well aware you're the only thing that can influence the radio in this car."

"I thought it was funny, and it was," Azra replied, smirking. "She certainly seems to be enjoying it."

"She does not, she's looking at us like we're a pair of monsters," Raphael complained, raking a hand through his red hair and nearly knocking out the tie he used to keep the bangs back.

"Well, she's only half wrong," Azra chuckled. "You should be a welcome presence, yes, but with your pink sunglasses at night you don't radiate angelic power, and I am a demon. She should be afraid of me." 

"You know damn well the sunglasses are better for humans than the alternative." 

"Someday you will have to tell me why you and only you have animal eyes, out of all the angels."

Raphael swallowed hard. 

He knew why. 

They were a reminder. 

But he just quirked his mouth in a semblance of a pained smile. "Told you, it's just my thing. Like Gabe's purple eyes and Uriel's gold face." 

"You have your own trace of gold, surely your eyes aren't comparable to Uriel's face."

"By choice, it goes away if I pull the staff out. Honest, Azra, that's the truth of it. Angels don't lie."

"Horseshit." 

"Excuse me? My bike? It didn't have gears. I know my bike didn't have gears." 

Azra shot the angel a _look._ "Oh lord, heal this _bike."_

"Okay, so I got a bit carried away." 

Neither of them said anything loud enough for the woman to hear. She sighed. "Take that left." 

Raphael obeyed, eventually wound up pulled over in front of a small cottage. "Is this your stop?" 

"Indeed it is, thank you."

Raphael quickly climbed out of the car and pulled the bike off the bike rack. "That's odd, there's no gears!" 

The woman eyed him suspiciously. 

"Oh, get in and let's get out of here, angel!" Azra snapped. 

The girl visibly settled at the word angel. Raphael couldn't help but chuckle. 

She wouldn't be settled if she knew it was a demon who had said it. 

But, she didn't know, and that was most of the point. Raphael climbed back into the driver's seat and sped off for Azra's bookshop.

"There's a book in the backseat," Azra remarked as he was climbing out. "I thought you didn't read."

"You say it like I have a choice in the matter. These eyes are not built for letters. But either way, it's not my book. It must belong to the girl. Do you remember where she lived? I could return it!"

Azra seemed distracted. "No, I don't. I tell you what, I'll find her and return it."

Raphael cocked an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to believe you'll do something nice for a human?"

"My treat. For you. Owe you for Hamlet, don't I?" 

"I'm sure you've repaid me for Hamlet by this point, but if you're so desperate to return the book for me, go for it. Just make sure that it gets back to her, alright? And talk to your operatives."

"Right! Tickety-boo!" 

Azra darted into the bookshop with the volume. 

"Tickety-boo?"

_Egypt_

"Gabriel, look, I really don't know _what_ got the Egyptians convinced that I'm a part of their pantheon, I've been doing everything to discourage it!" Raphael cried. "The Hebrews may have a guess that I'm an angel, but at least they aren't mistaking me for a god and using me as an excuse to commit false idolatry. Are you sure I shouldn't just wait this one out in a different region? This can't be looking very promising on my ledger."

"It's not, but I'll take care of it. If the Metatron objects, they shouldn't have given you the features getting you mistaken for a god. Unfortunately, we need you around here. For the next significant chunk of time." 

"Something _is_ about to happen, isn't it? I could feel something in the air."

More like Azra was refusing to discuss what Hell had rewarded him for accomplishing. 

Gabriel sighed, lips pressed together. "If it's any reassurance, the fact that they think you're a god will make your next task easier, and I think you'll appreciate it more than the last one we saw through together." 

"It's nothing like that again, is it, Gabriel? I don't think I can-"

"The Pharoah is ordering the deaths of all the Hebrew children." 

Raphael couldn't help the horrified gasp that slipped through their teeth, took a step backwards. "And the Almighty will allow it?" 

"She has to. This is the start of freeing the Hebrews from Egypt. And that's why your task is so important. Come with me."

Raphael obeyed in stunned silence, was led to a small clay hut where a mother was nursing a newborn child. Around her were huddled two more children. 

"She will place the child in a basket of reeds and loose it in the Nile. It is your task to ensure the boy winds up in the Pharoah's charge. You're an authority to him."

"Isn't it blasphemous for me to use that fact?" 

"I'm sure a bend in the rules here and there won't be frowned upon. It will only work _because_ of your perceived authority. If you were blending in with God's people here, you would be powerless to ensure the boy's fate."

Raphael nodded. "What is the child's name?" 

"Moses."

"And he's the only one I am permitted to save."

"I'm sorry, brother." 

One was better than being ordered not to intervene. Raphael nodded. "Dare I hope this will start the end of my time in Egypt? I'm making any demon's job of encouraging false idolatry quite easy where I currently am."

"It will. Hopefully by your next stop you'll have found a good reason to keep your eyes hidden, or something of the sorts. Perhaps someday the humans will invent a device for it. They're rather clever, I must admit." 

"One can hope." 

The Nile River was cold and crawling with creatures that would love to impede the young boy's tumultuous journey through it's treacherous curves. Raphael followed from the shore, feet in the water, using his presence to force crocodiles and hippopotami and fishing boats away from the basket. The sand squished between his toes, the waves lapped the edge of his white robe. 

He was dressed quite modestly for the time, he supposed, considering he had accidentally placed himself as part of the Egyptians and not the Hebrews, but in the eyes of the Pharoah he _was_ a god, so he got out of questions concerning such facts.

There was a small pool where the queen of Egypt took water into the castle. Once he deemed they were close enough, he assumed serpent form to nudge the reed basket within the pool. 

The queen stared at him. Her young son pulled at her dress, frightened of the huge white and gold serpent that approached. 

"Hush, Rameses," she said gently, and turned back to the serpent. 

Raphael offered no introduction. He didn't need one. They had a different name for him, but they all knew who he was. 

He was the only god the Egyptians had ever seen in person. "Hisssss name is Mosesssss," Raphael said, not bothering to return to human form. "You and the Pharoah are to raisssse him asss your own, asss ordered by the godssss…"

The woman gently plucked the baby from the basket, stared back at the giant snake in the water. 

Raphael didn't blink. Specifically because this form didn't blink at all. 

After a few seconds, she bowed her head. "Of course, my lord. He is a gift from the gods. We shall raise him as though he were our own son." 

"Good. I'll be… checking in on him. He'sss very important. The godsssss will know if any harm befalls him." 

The queen of Egypt nodded and carried the babe within the palace.

Raphael left the pool, assumed his typical form, black horror seizing hold of him as he realized he now had to go back and face the harsh reality the Pharoah had ordered. 

The harsh reality _Azra_ had caused. 

The thought left a lump in his throat. _His_ Azra would never have done something this vile. It opposed _his_ Azra's, _his Aziraphale's_ entire nature. 

The presence of Death was heavy within the city. Screams and cries erupted from every home, cries of mothers who's children were ripped from their arms, and horrible _disappearance_ of a particular scream, the splashing sound in the Nile as the water that splashed around his feet now began to run red with the blood of infants. 

The blood of innocents. 

_I shall carry them with me gently, Healer,_ was Death's only reassurance. _They are innocent and shall find warmth and comfort with me._ Neither of them could help what was happening. Raphael had been around long enough to know that Azreal took no pleasure in this job. 

They were simply playing their parts. There was no battle between the healer and death, not when the Almighty already knew what fate would decide. 

Still, Raphael barely acknowledged his presence. The worse it got, the more clamorous the screaming, the more lives he could feel slipping into Death's grip, the deeper a hole was torn in his chest and it was all he could do to stay standing. To stay walking, trying to get as far away from the carnage as he could, desperately seeking refuge from the destructive wave sweeping across Egypt. He could feel unwilling tears streaming down his face.

"Raphael! You shouldn't be here!" 

Raphael's head snapped up.

It was _Azra._

"Thanks to you!" He seethed, teeth bared on the edge of his lips, the beginning of a snarl. 

"Well, I daresay the archangel in town isn't doing much to prevent it, so perhaps partial credit to both of us is due," Azra replied, picking at a fingernail.

Raphael didn't even think. Later, he would try to recall what had possessed him to do such a thing, even as Gabriel congratulated him and praised his dedication to the cause. 

Perhaps were he not so worn thin by the massacre around him, he would have been able to respond differently. Perhaps if he did not know that it was Azra who had done it. Perhaps if anything else had come to his find but blind, divine fury, although he was not sure he got to deem his own fury to be divine, things would have gone differently. Perhaps if he had been able to hold onto the shred of sympathy he normally showed the demon who had been Aziraphale, he would not have done what he did. 

But none of those happened. Raphael drew his staff, snake coiled tightly around the top, knuckles white on the smooth wooden finish, and screamed. What he screamed, he did not know. But he screamed with all the fury and pain and devastation and turmoil that rolled around inside him, and the world went white. 

When colour returned, there was nothing proven Azra had even stood before him but ash floating to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it, I work much faster when encouraged by feedback!


	6. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Save Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iw3izcZd9zU)

_It started off so well,_

_They said we made a perfect pair,_

_I clothed myself in your glory and your love,_

_How I loved you,_

_How I cried_

_Egypt_

Babies grew up quickly, that was the first thing Raphael learned while he was observing Moses. 

Of course, his orders didn't involve looking after the child himself, but Gabriel had been so thrilled with Azra's discorporation that he had given his brother a lot of free range with what he did lately. 

It didn't make the angel proud to have to take advantage of that thrill. It was a good thing Gabriel couldn't sense his intentions, because that sudden burst of righteous fury was his biggest regret of late. 

To some degree, Azra was still Aziraphale. Harder, crueller, meaner, but still the soft principality who Raphael had grown close to in Heaven. Guilt for his outburst of anger clawed its way easily into his chest, burned and bubbled and festered there. 

Venom still rose in his throat when he thought of what the demon had last said to him. _"Well, I daresay the archangel in town isn't doing much to prevent it, so perhaps partial credit to both of us is due."_

But the longer he spent without the demon, the more he realized he hadn't been mad at Azra for saying it, he had been mad at the idea that it was _true._

Gabriel had left him powerless to help. His negligence, his silent observation of the tragedy that had struck Egypt, his quiet obedience to Gabriel had cost all but one child their lives, when he could have saved hundreds. 

But what could he do but obey Gabriel, when both of their fates rested on the line and his own judgement had failed him all that time ago? There was nothing he could have done, Azra was being intentionally cruel. Perhaps even trying to tempt the archangel to the sin of wrath and a torturous descent like the one the demon had previously taken.

Maybe it had come close to working. Maybe the smiting was all that had saved him, the fact that Heaven had also had rage towards Azra and he had simply been a vessel for it.

As much as he had been furious with Azra, he missed the demon. He wasn't the angel he had once been, but he was _something._ And now it could be centuries before he received a new corporation. 

So Raphael busied himself looking after the young adopted prince. The Egyptians didn't dare comment, given that his interest in the boy could be seen as a blessing from the gods. 

It didn't take long for squirming to become crawling, crawling to become walking, and walking to become running. 

Running clean out of the city. Raphael knew better than to interfere, he sat atop a stone wall, head rested against his hand, elbow on his knee, watching the boy flee. 

He knew what had transpired. He had been there when Azreal had claimed the slave driver, uncharacteristically, he had almost shoved the soul at Death, hands shaking at the knowledge of the suffering inflicted by the hands of the befallen, mercy being something he had to claw up from inside himself with much effort.

_No sympathy for this one, Raphael?_

Raphael sighed. "Some souls just aren't worth saving. Not when I can't save him from his fiery fate." 

Azreal nodded. 

It wasn't like the angel of death spent time judging the archangel, and there was nothing Raphael could have done this time, either. 

And it was a soul doomed for Hell. Perhaps pity was in order, but hardly concern. 

_You have done well here, Raphael. Eased much suffering. Saved many from my hand._

"It's never going to feel like enough. That's my lot in life, isn't it? No matter what I do, you win eventually. It's actually relieving to not want to fight for this one."

Death may have smiled, and left the archangel in peace. 

And now he was watching Moses flee the city as fast as his feet would carry him.

Raphael knew his destination already, had been informed of when was right to interfere. It wouldn't be for many years, still. He was welcome to leave the city and keep an eye on Moses and Zipporah, or he could remain in Egypt and continue his watch over the Hebrews.

He hadn't fully decided yet, but he got the distinct feeling that Moses wouldn't be needing him any time soon. His efforts would be better spent within the great city, tending to God's people.

_Midian_

"It has been a long while since God has spoken to a human." 

Or anyone at all, but Raphael didn't mention that. 

She stood outside the cave Moses had emerged from moments before, staff in her hand, wearing a simple robe her goddesslike status forbade. 

She had found out about fifteen years ago that she had been being mistaken for a goddess, not at god, as the Egyptians only god of snakes was the god of chaos and she apparently wasn't chaotic enough.

It wasn't like she had minded, and now it was more fitting. Both were equally inaccurate by comparing him to God.

However, the Egyptians still needed to believe her to be godly for a little longer, and falling in with their customs of elaborate costume and jewelry had become less and less of a choice over the years. 

"You're an angel." Moses stared at her. "But I… I _remember_ you! From Egypt! They told me you were a goddess, when I believed I was a gift given to them by the gods! They said it was you who brought me to them."

"It was. They were mistaken in believing I was a deity, however," Raphael said easily, golden gaze fixed on the man that the boy she had helped raise had turned into. "I am an angel of the Lord, sent to protect God's people. My name is Raphael." 

Moses nodded, awestruck look fixed upon his face. "Then why are you here? God's people suffer still in Egypt!"

"I know," Raphael said sadly. "I have come to help you, although I am ordered not to interfere directly. I am to help you carry out the will of the Lord. Heaven hopes that the treason of one of Egypt's own deities will encourage them to give in to your demands."

She paused, looked at the staff in her hand, the white snake coiled at the top. "I am also to give you this. A staff with which you shall do God's wonders. I'll be wanting it back when you're done with it, so be careful with it. I've had it since I was created."

"Complete with the snake? I mean not to question you, angel Raphael-" 

"You would not be the first to question me, Moses. I hardly think the child I helped raise will offend me by questioning me. As for the snake, I rather suspect Crowley will be a little more concealed when the staff is in your possession than in mine." 

She held the staff out in front of her. 

Moses wrapped a hand around it. Instantly, the snake disappeared. 

It appeared to be a normal staff of wood. 

"Well, there you have it. I don't think Crowley will cause you any problems. Now, go and fetch your wife. We must be going. Someone has to convince the Pharoah to let God's people go." 

Moses nodded, frozen in place a few moments longer, and then ran to find Zipporah.

Raphael watched him run, half terrified, half awestruck, racing for his wife.

Couldn't help but smile. 

Moses had grown up well.

Though Raphael wasn't sure the deliverer could handle what came next.

_Heaven_

"Raphael, I know God didn't order you to sit around making flowers. There are more than enough of those." 

Raphael looked up and smiled as he saw it was Aziraphale who approached him. "Come now, Zira, you have no way of proving what the Almighty's orders for me were." 

"I do when your siblings are running around looking for you, because you've shirked your duties." 

"I haven't shirked anything, I just asked a couple of my healers to handle some of the minor stuff as an excuse to come down here. Everything the Metatron told me to do is getting done. And what about you, Aziraphale?" Raphael's smile turned teasing. "Are your heavenly duties now to keep me company while I'm not doing mine?"

Aziraphale laughed, blue eyes sparkling. "My heavenly duties were reassigned to go find you." 

"Oh, well, in that case, sit down, your duties are complete. They didn't say anything about having to return me to Heaven, and I'm not technically doing anything wrong." 

The Principality gave him a long-suffering sigh, but walked over and sat in the soft grass beside him. 

"Is something the matter, Raphael?"

"Look around this place, Aziraphale," Raphael began, sweeping his soft gold gaze across the garden. 

"The fruit of many hard labours, mostly by you and your siblings." 

"That's not what I meant." 

Aziraphale looked at him. "Well, what did you mean?" 

The archangel sighed. "Everything here is full of life. I know the opposite exists, but we have no proof of its interference yet, I would be the first to know."

"I rather believe that is a good thing, dear boy."

"But then what is my purpose?" 

"How do you mean? You're an archangel, charged with constructing the stars and-"

"Mending the broken and healing the sick. Angels don't get sick, and could mend their own wounds if they tried, at least most of them could."

"Because you've taught them how." 

"That's my point, Zira. I'm practically obsolete at this point, which means that I'm going to have a role with the humans. And what role could I possibly have with innocent creatures who know no disease?" 

"Mending scraped knees, teaching them of the healing properties of those plants you paid so much attention to while Uriel was making them…"

Raphael shook his head. "This place is full of life. I would imagine it to be quite hard to injure oneself here. The grass is soft, the stone smooth, the animals gentle. What harm could possibly befall the humans?" 

Aziraphale frowned. "I'm… I'm really not sure, dear boy, although I'm suspecting you have a guess." 

"Mother speaks of testing the humans. And I can't help but feel that the _tests_ are where my role lies. But why would Mother test her creations to disease and injury?" Raphael asked, fiddling with a yellow flower in his hand. It didn't look quite right. It reminded him of the sun, but something was off with the petals. "Why must she test them at all?"

"You know such things aren't discussed with me, Raphael. If _you_ only know that they will be tested, you can rest assured that I know less, and likely only the Metatron knows more." 

"I find it very concerning, Aziraphale. I have never know God to inflict suffering upon her creations. It scares me to know that she might someday. And… I do not want a part of it when she does, but she's forced my hands into it." 

Aziraphale didn't say anything. Raphael sighed, stared down at the yellow flower. Under his gaze, the petals thinned and multiplied into more and more circles of them, completely overtaking the center. 

With a puff of breath, the petals turned to puffs, each carrying seeds, that carried the new flower across the garden.

"It's very nice," Aziraphale said, trying to distract him. 

"It makes me think of you." 

_Present Day_

Azra could hardly believe the book he held in his hand was really there. 

He had been searching for it for centuries. 

Azra had a collection of books of prophecy. All of the greats. Mother Shipton, Robert Nixon, John the Baptist, although Raphael had obtained that one for him, the man had managed to discern that Azra was a demon. He was more than willing to share his prophetic revelations with an angel, though, unbeknownst to him that the angel could only read with great difficulty and headaches. Normally, if it was unimportant, he handed whatever it was to Azra and asked the demon to read it aloud to him. 

But there was one book he had never found a copy of. One book that no copies had ever been sold, that only the author's copy remained. 

Agnes Butter's book of prophecy. 

_The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch._

The only book of prophecy that was composed entirely of truths. A book which only one copy existed, and now it had landed in Azra's possession. 

So, he'd been forced to lie to Raphael to get it. There were worse things. 

Slowly, reverently, Azra opened to the front page. 

Many of the prophecies had already taken place. Many, in fact, Azra remembered their occurences. Others less so, their impacts not having shaking the world as much as others. 

So he scanned through until he came across a prophecy he knew hadn't happened. 

_When that the demon readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish demon, for thy cocoa doth grow cold._

Azra stared in horror at his cup of cold cocoa. 

Open his eyes and read? 

Azra could do that. 

He passed the whole night reading, seeing prophecy after prophecy. Some that had passed, some that had certainly not yet. Certain ones stood out more, some made no sense at all and he pushed them to the side.

Although he was still not sure what he was meant to be reading. Was is not this book of prophecy at all? Perhaps it was Revelations, although Azra had spent plenty of time reading that particular book to young Warlock not that long ago, out of the only bible without some humorous error that he owned, one that Raphael had given him, and he had accepted it because it made the angel laugh to give it to him.

It was worth a try. Azra reached for the bible, flipped it open.

_Here is wisdom. Let the one who hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred threescore and six._

Azra’s phone rang. He picked it up without thinking. 

“Azra? Any news? You found the missing Antichrist yet?” Raphael asked the moment the phone was lifted.

“No! No news! Nothing at all! If I had anything, I would tell you, obviously. Immediately! We’re friends, why would you even ask?”

Raphael groaned. “No news here, either. Call me if you find anything? And made sure that nice young lady gets her book back!”

“Absolutely. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

Azra slammed the phone down.

Turned back to Agnes Nutter’s book.

_The Number of the Beast is in the Revelayting of Sainte John, call hym in Taddesfield. And ye will know hym by this sign, that when ye do call hym, the Lesser Beaste will walk upon his hind legs like unto a Dancing Bear._

“Wait a minute.”

Azra grabbed the phone he had just set down. He would need the Tadfield area code, obviously, but…

He dialled the phone.

“Tadfield oh-four-six triple six, Arthur Young speaking.”

In the background, a boy’s voice. “Dad! Look! I got Dog to walk on his hind legs!”

“Sorry, right number!”

Azra hung up the phone. 


	7. The Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [The Silence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00p2FW7ZLVo)

_ It is not enough to be dumbstruck, _

_ Can you fill the silence? _

_ You must have the words in that head of yours, _

_ And oh, oh, can you feel the silence? _

_ I can't take it anymore, _

_ Cause it is not enough to be dumbstruck, _

_ Can you fill the silence? _

_ Egypt _

Raphael now stood outside the polished halls of the palace. The guards were slowly opening the doors, but at the sight of their perceived goddess standing with a man they now believed to be a stranger, they were in a hurry to allow them entrance. 

Crowds of people stood at the borders of the room, dancers at the steps up to the Pharaoh’s seat. 

Moses walked confidently down the polished floor, footsteps echoing as the room began to fall still. At the sight of Moses and Raphael, the Pharaoh ordered stop to the music and the dancing, stood up from his seat. 

“Moses?” He asked, rushing down the steps. “Moses!”

“Rameses!” Moses said rapturously, as the Pharaoh lifted him from the ground in an embrace. “Look at you! Pharaoh!”

“And look at you! I mean, what on earth are you dressed as?”

Thankfully for Raphael and Zipporah, they were not acknowledged by the king of egypt, the king that Raphael probably should have mentioned was now Moses’ brother, and not his father. 

“Oh, Rameses, I’ve missed you.”

Hotep and Hoi, some of the most annoying priests of the Egyptian gods, stepped up behind the Pharaoh. 

“My king, though we are loathe to bring it up, we feel we must remind you that this man has committed a serious crime.”

“Against the gods!”   
“And while we hate to mention it, the law clearly states that the punishment for such a crime is-”

“Death!”

The Pharaoh looked annoyed. “I am the Morning and the Evening Star, it shall be as I say.”

“Rameses…” Moses tried, but the Pharaoh ignored him. 

“I pardon forever all crimes for which he stands accused, and will have it be known that he is our brother, Moses, the prince of Egypt!”

Moses sighed. “Rameses, in my heart, you are my brother, but things cannot be as they once were.”   
“I see no reason why not!”   
“You know I am a Hebrew.”

“And you were returned to us by the very goddess who gifted you to us in the first place!” Rameses motioned at Raphael, who fought the urge to hiss at him. 

Just a few more minutes of this. 

“The God of the Hebrews came to me. He commands that you let His people go.”

Whispers broke out through the crowd.

“Commands?”

Moses seemed to hesitate. Raphael looked pointedly at the staff he held in his hand.

The man nodded, placed the end on the floor, and let go.

"Behold the power of God."

The staff remained standing, slowly turned from wood to living flesh, white scales and gold eyes. 

Crowley hissed at the Pharaoh. 

“Well… Impressive! Very well, Moses, I’ll play along. Hotep, Hoi! Give this snake charmer our answer.”

“It shall be an impressive one, with one of our gods present,” Hotep declared, stepping closer to Raphael and circling around her. 

She hissed in his face. “The Hebrew God has sent me too, priest. You shan’t have any support from me.”

That was enough to give the priests pause. “The Hebrew god sent our own goddess against us?”

“Indeed.” Raphael hissed, snake eyes narrowed. She took a step back from the priest. “Now go on, put on your show, with your magic and lies. You have seen the only true power you will witness today. All that is left for you is petty tricks.”

The priests looked outraged, but put on their performance anyways. 

Raphael remarked smugly that by the time they were done, Crowley had devoured the snakes they produced. She made a mental note to make sure he didn’t get a stomach ache from that later.

Rameses beckoned for Moses to follow him into another room. Moses picked up the snake and followed him.

Zipporah and Raphael were left in the polished throne room, with the humans who were about to suffer for their leader’s foolish mistakes. 

“You are a traitor to your fellow gods.”

“I am  _ not _ your god, foolish false priests. I am an Angel of the Lord, and should you continue to fight you  _ shall _ learn what it is to suffer under true divine power.”

“You are  _ nothing, _ just like the Hebrew’s god!” 

Raphael spread all six of her blue wings, feathers smacking the priests in the face, much to her satisfaction. “I am afraid it is you, who is nothing, as you shall soon learn.”

She turned to walk out. Zipporah followed. 

Moses caught up with them shortly after. Raphael tucked her wings away, accompanied the deliverer to the river, passed the ranks of Hebrews. Some turned to follow, like Myriam, Moses’ sister, others spat at their feet.

Moses did not appear to blame them. 

Raphael, on the other hand, didn't have to be pleased about getting spat on.

“Let my people go!” Moses cried, standing at the bank, staring at the Pharaoh.

“Give up this silly game, Moses,” Rameses shouted back. 

“Let my people go!”

“Seize him.”

Guards leapt into the Nile, charging for the shore. Raphael had half a mind to send crocodiles after them, but she was no longer meant to interfere directly. 

Moses would free the Hebrews, not the angel. 

Moses stepped into the river, plunged his staff in, and the Nile ran with blood. 

It was the first plague of Egypt.

The second plague was frogs. Frogs swarming up from within the scant remnants of drinkable water there was left in Egypt, frogs crawling and creeping into everything. Amongst city officials, into bread baskets and ovens and creating great swathes of themselves upon the road, thus making them impassable by chariot. 

Frogs crept everywhere. Into the beds, around the people, making everyday life impossible. 

For the Egyptians. 

The Hebrew did not suffer this plague. Raphael could have stayed with them, and indeed, did consult with Aaron and Moses often, but she stayed among the people of Egypt, where the air was rife with barely begun suffering.

The third plague was lice. Raphael was meant to allow them their carnage, to allow them to terrorize all members of Egypt, but it was not in her nature to allow suffering. Amongst the lower people in Egypt, those who had no say in what was happening, she offered small comfort, slight relief from the constant itching. It pained her to see them suffering, some with blood running down their scalps from scratching at the insect bites. 

She too, suffered the bites and itches of the infernal bugs. A miracle would have protected her, but who was she to miracle protection for herself when she allowed others to be plagued by such small and vicious beasts?

The fourth plague was a swarm. Terrorizing livestock, wrecking havoc upon everything it could. Raphael was hopeful it may end there, the Pharaoh said he would allow the Hebrews leave if the swarm were to go, but once it had, he failed to keep such a promise. 

The angel wondered if that was God’s plan all along. To ensure that all plagues were carried out.

The fifth plague, pestilence upon the livestock. The people were already starving, their harvests unobtainable due to the plagues befalling the ground around them. Raphael forced herself not to act, not to supply food, for it would come to Gabriel’s attention if she did. 

She passed people curled over on the street, hands clutching at her sandalled feet and begging for relief, praying to their gods of whom she was meant to be, of whom she had pretended to be for forty years, and she was forced to pass them by. 

To allow their hunger to devour them from within.

The sixth, boils broke out amongst the people of Egypt. Many who saw her and knew her begged the Archangel for healing, but her hands were tied by the will of God. She was unable to interfere with the suffering of Egypt’s people.

They stopped begging when boils appeared on the angel's arms as well. 

Moses and Aaron questioned her. Asked her why she felt responsible to suffer with this people, if she was a servant of the Hebrew God. 

Raphael did not have an answer.

The seventh plague brought hail and lightning and fire from the sky, brought burns and cries and screams of anguish. 

The angel was not the only one to suffer, this time. Although the Hebrews did not burn like she chose to, allowing spark and ash and flame to settle on her skin as the wind tore it around, Moses bore the face of someone desperate for the wreckage to stop. 

The eighth brought locusts to eat what remained of the crops, the ninth brought darkness. 

And still, Raphael knew it would get worse with the tenth. 

She prayed each night that the Pharaoh would yield. Would allow the Hebrews to go.

Such an event did not pass. The Pharaoh grew colder and crueller with each bought of plague.

She knew the tenth would be worse because Gabriel himself came down to tell her what would transpire. Instructed her to help the Hebrews prepare for the final plague, and then to leave. Azreal would be there soon, and there was no reason for the healer to stay. 

Raphael did not leave. She stood at the entrance to the city as Death approached. 

_ Why have you stayed, Raphael? _

“How could I leave? To leave would be to deny what is about to befall Egypt.” 

_ You cannot help. _

“I know. But I have to stay.”

_ It will hurt you to stay. _

“I know.” 

_ They will not suffer. I assure you, healer, they will be taken softly into the night. _

“And to where?”

_ Do you not believe that the Almighty has mercy for children? They will find peace and rest, healer, I assure you. You may rest easy. _

Raphael didn't answer. 

_ I shall not make you step away and allow me passage. This blood is not on your hands. _

Raphael smiled blithely. "It is whether I allow you to pass or not. I am allowing this massacre to happen. Here or gone, I remain responsible. My hands are already stained with the blood of innocents I was forbidden to save, why spare me now?" 

Raphael stepped away and let Death enter. She couldn’t have really stopped it, anyways.

Azreal was somber as the angel of Death stepped past the angel charged with preserving life.  _ I am sorry. _

Raphael didn't answer.

Slid down along a stone pillar, and buried her face in her hands.

“I believe this makes us even,” Azra said coldly. 

It was a voice she hadn’t heard in nearly fifty years. She lifted her head to face him. 

“I should destroy you. Send you back to your head office. Return in kind for last time. But I won’t.”

“Why not?” Raphael asked, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“It would absolve you of your guilt. If I discorporated you now, you can say there was nothing you could have done. That the demon sent you away. No, I’m going to leave you here, so that there’s everything you could have done, and you chose to sit here and do nothing while children died. Just like last time.”

Azra walked away, and Raphael broke into sobs. 

She remained in Egypt as Death cast its hand across the land.

  
  


_ Heaven  _

"Samael, where are you dragging me?" Raphael laughed, walking along behind him in exaggeratedly large steps. "Honestly, you know I'm meant to be doing something, brother."

"And I know you couldn't care less what that is, sister." 

Raphael just laughed some more. "If you keep talking like that you'll get me into trouble with the Metatron again. That was bad enough last time." 

Samael scoffed. "You couldn't care less what the Metatron says, as long as Michael is pleased with you." 

"So where are you bringing me, Samael?" Raphael insisted, golden eyes sparkling. "For all you know I was meant to be meeting Michael right now!"

"This would hardly be the first time you shirked your duties." 

"Coming from the brother who  _ invented  _ shirking duties. I made an entire galaxy up there by myself the day after I learned to make planets because you disappeared! Mother sent me back to fix it three times, and I still never told her that you made me do it myself." 

"And how many of your healers have done your tasks so that you could visit that principality?" Samael asked with a teasing grin. 

"You know Mother has nothing against me visiting that principality, and Michael thinks it's cute. What did she call it?" 

"She said you had a crush, effectively coining the word crush for all eternity, little sister." 

"It's not like anyone had told me to stop," Raphael reasoned. "Even the Metatron leaves me alone about that, and they question me about everything!" 

"It's hardly becoming of the kingdom founded on love and grace not to condone when one of its highest beings falls in love, Raphael. Besides, Aziraphale is a good angel, if a little odd at times." 

"Who said anything about love?" 

Samael tipped his head back and laughed. "Sister, it's what Michael was implying when she called it a crush." 

Raphael was absolutely sure she was as red as her hair. "What did you drag me over here for anyways, Samael?" 

"A sneak peak." 

Samael motioned to the book in front of them. A simple black, leather-bound book Raphael had seen God consulting on many occasions. "Mother left it lying around. I may have… pilfered it for a look, although I haven't gotten around to reading it. Had a quick glance, though. You were always the scholarly type, I thought you would like a look at it. Figured I could be a nice big brother and even give you the  _ first  _ read through it. It really is more your scene than mine." 

Raphael gasped. "Is that-"

"It is. All of it, all written down. No more snippets while we're told what to do, that's the whole In-"

"The Ineffable Plan. Samael, you can't have that." 

"Mother will never know!" Samael cried. 

"I- I can't read that. We're not supposed to know any of that." 

"Of course you can! You're an archangel, we're charged with bloody half of creation, you have the right to know what it's for!" Samael insisted. 

"We don't need to know, Samael, and you know we aren't meant to!"

Raphael took a few steps backwards. Started to turn around. 

"Well, you should know, you're in it. You and that principality." 

Raphael froze. Samael grinned. "I thought that might get you. You know, I didn't read far enough in to know what really happens, but I don't think God had a very kind idea of what to do with you two during this Ineffable Plan. Just thought out ought to know."

Although her heart clamoured in her throat and all she wanted to do was grab the book and read until she knew what Samael meant, Raphael forced herself to turn and flee back down the hall. 

Samael didn't follow her. Just stared, black eyes boring into her back. "Raphael!" 

She couldn't help it. She looked back.

"If you even  _ think _ about telling Michael about this… it won't be you who suffers for it, sister. I'll make sure it's the little principality."


	8. Vanilla Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Vanilla Twilight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIz2K3ArrWk)

_ The silence isn't so bad _

_ 'Til I look at my hands and feel sad _

_ 'Cause the spaces between my fingers _

_ Are right where yours fit perfectly _

_ I'll find repose in new ways _

_ Though I haven't slept in two days _

_ 'Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone _

"Sergeant? I have an urgent matter which I need you to look into. You will be well compensated, of course." Raphael said.

Shadwell contemplated him. "And what'll you have me looking into, Mister Crowley?"

Crowley had not been one of Raphael's proudest name choices, it had earned him merciless teasing from Azra for having named himself after his snake.

"All I know is there's something strange going on in Tadfield, Oxfordshire." 

"I'll put a squad of my best men on it." 

"Thank you kindly, sergeant Shadwell." Raphael stood to leave. 

"You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that, Mister Crowley?" 

Raphael smirked. "You have, sergeant. She's doing quite well lately,” he promised. 

His mother was just the version of himself that Shadwell had run into around 1970, and had hired the witchfinder to keep an eye on humans that required some extra suspicion. 

Given that it had been since the seventies, and Raphael had barely changed at all, it wouldn’t do to still be pretending to be the same person. 

“So why are you having us search Tadfield?”

“I’m looking for a boy, he’s about eleven. Just look for strange things going on, sergeant Shadwell,” Raphael instructed. 

“Will do.”   
Raphael folded his newspaper, placed it on the cafe table. Shadwell cleared his throat. 

“The men need paying, Mister Crowley. I’ve prepared the ledger-”

“Please, sergeant Shadwell. You know that I know how much you men are owed. You’ll have it in cash by the end of the week.” 

Raphael stood and left. 

He shouldn’t have made a new report. Heaven was content with what they knew, and this report was going to get him in trouble for spending the last eleven years with a demon he didn’t have to have been associating with. 

But he owed Gabriel the truth. 

What he hadn’t expected was for the review to be done in front of a panel of all his siblings. 

“Gabriel,” he dipped his head to his brother, glanced over the others. 

Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon. They all stared back with scrutinizing gazes, although he saw a flash of sympathy in Michael’s. 

She had never been as disapproving of Raphael as the rest of his siblings were. Perhaps because she had known him the longest before his almost-fall.

Perhaps because she was the only angel who knew what the extent of his relationship with the fallen angel Azra really had been, and how deep of a wound his fall had left. A wound that was likely not to heal, even for another six thousand years. 

“Raphael, we got your message. You said you had something big? Tell us?”

“Pardon?” He clearly hadn’t been paying enough attention. Gabriel sighed. Uriel glared at him.

“What’s happening?” 

Sometimes his little sister really got on his nerves. “It’s about the Antichrist, Gabriel. Given I sent the message to you, I wasn’t aware we were going to have an audience.” 

Michael he could have stood for. Uriel and Sandalphon spent too much of their time flexing their power over him. 

“Well, what can I say. Your message interested all of our siblings. Surely that doesn’t bother you, does it? It isn’t often you get to see all of us, with your… unfortunate predicament. Of course, that will be changing soon. The final battle will be won and you can rejoin us in Heaven in your true place among the angels?” 

Raphael simply looked at how closely Michael and Gabriel were stood together. The archangels lined up in order of rank, and there needed to be a gap between his brother and sister for what Gabriel had promised to happen. “True place. I don’t think you would like that, brother.”

Gabriel stumbled a bit. “Well, close to your true place. We still have a  _ deal _ , Raphael, and I’m quite certain we can agree that the power shift was necessary.” 

Despite never having been fully informed of  _ what _ had happened the day Raphael almost fell, and not having true knowledge of the deal, their siblings remained stone-faced through Gabriel’s reasoning.

“Tell us what is happening, Raphael,” Michael said gently. 

“Well…” Raphael cleared his throat. “I think, that, well… I have reason to believe that the other side might have lost track of him.”

Michael sighed. “The other side?”   
“Lost track of him? He’s the son of the American ambassador as you well know, he’s under constant surveillance,” Gabriel said.

“The other side is currently transporting him to the Plains of Megiddo. Apparently, that is the traditional starting place for Armageddon.”

“Right. It’s possible that… that Azra may have switched the child. Fooled me with a ruse, Gabriel, he’s showing no interest in the child Warlock. Not anymore.”

Gabriel stared at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Michael cut him off before he could explode.

“You believe the demon Azra deceived not only you into believing that the son of the American ambassador was the Antichrist, but also the rest of Hell? To what purpose, Raphael?”

“I’m really not sure. But I’m almost certain that Warlock is not the Antichrist.” 

His siblings did not comment on that. 

“So… if… if Warlock wasn’t the Antichrist, what would that mean? Hypothetically-”

“It wouldn’t change anything, Raphael,” Michael began, before Gabriel interrupted her.

“There was war in Heaven long before the Earth was created. Azra and the rest were cast out, but nothing was ever really… settled.”   
“But does there have to be another war?” Raphael couldn’t help himself from asking. “If the Antichrist could be tamed-”

“There will be a war. You were told a long time ago to prepare for such facts. I expect to find that you have, Raphael.”

“Yes, Gabreil.”

_ Heaven _

Try as she might, Raphael could not put what Samael had told her behind her. 

She was scared enough of Samael's threat not to  _ dream  _ of telling Michael what she had been shown. She couldn't put Aziraphale at risk. 

She had been jumpy. Everywhere she went, she suspected her older brother was watching her. She could feel his black gaze on the back of her neck, watching over her and she flitted between the Garden and Heaven, carrying out tasks assigned to her.

She avoided the principality at all costs. 

She knew no one knew why. Gabriel and Michael questioned her, almost certainly on the behalf of Aziraphale, concern lighting their gazes. Had they fought? Had Aziraphale somehow upset the archangel? Was there anything they could do to help? 

Raphael dodged the questions. 

Despite her perceived obedience, her thoughts were consumed by what Samael had told her. 

Why would she and Aziraphale suffer in the Ineffable Plan? 

Her bare feet carried her along the clean white hallways of Heaven. She was not watching where she was going. 

What could God have planned for herself and Aziraphale?

She walked right into Michael. 

"Raphael? Aziraphale is looking for you, I think you should go and see him. What are you meant to be doing, I'll take care of it," She offered, straightening her robe. 

"I- I can take care of it, don't worry about it, I'll go find Aziraphale some other-"

"Little sister," Michael put on her big sister voice. Raphael sighed. "Go and find Aziraphale. Whatever this is, it's not good for you. Either of you. You can't just start avoiding him for no reason."

Raphael bit her lip. Michael sighed. "What is bothering you, sister?"

"I really can't say."

Michael gave her a hug. "Go and see Aziraphale. I know he means a lot to you, and I can't fathom why you're avoiding him. Between the two of them, you're the reason I coined the term  _ crush."  _

Raphael blushed despite herself. "It was good to know you approved, though."

"Of course I do! I approve of anyone that makes you that happy, which is why I can't understand why you won't talk to him right now."

Raphael shook her head sadly. "I wish I could explain, sister, I really do." 

"You don't have to explain it to me. Just explain to Aziraphale. He's waiting at the end of this hall, and I promised I would get you to talk to him." 

"Michael, I can't-"

"You're going to talk to Aziraphale if I have to lock you two in a room together." 

Raphael nodded. 

Resolved that she would just make an excuse and head back off to her work. 

And go back to avoiding Samael. 

Walked to the end of the hall. 

"Have you been avoiding me?" Aziraphale asked, blue eyes filled with concern. 

"No, I haven't been avoiding you." Raphael lied. 

"Well then why have I barely seen you lately?" Aziraphale seemed to be pouting. 

"I've… I've been distracted." 

That wasn't a lie. And the look on her face must have been miserable, because Aziraphale's gaze softened. "Are you alright?" 

That wasn't a new question.

Gabriel had asked, Michael had asked, even a couple of her healers had asked. 

But coming from Aziraphale, Raphael couldn't dodge it as easily. 

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. 

Aziraphale gasped and pulled her into his arms. "Raph, it's alright, if something was bothering you, I wish you would have told me…" 

She didn't manage to say anything. 

"Can I help in any way?" 

Raphael shook her head, buried her face against his shoulder. "There's nothing you can do. I have to deal with it myself."

Aziraphale laced his fingers in between hers. They seemed to fit there, curled around hers. "You know I'm here for you, Raphael. You can always talk to me."

"I can't tell you anything." 

"That doesn't mean I'm not here for you." Aziraphale insisted. "If you can't tell me what's bothering you, you don't have to. But I'm going to be at your side, as long as you'll let me, my dear girl." 

Raphael sniffled. "What did I do to deserve you?" 

Aziraphale laughed. "I'm sure you healed someone worthy of reward, dear." 

"Can't have been Gabriel." Despite herself, Raphael cracked a hint of a smile. *Or the Metatron. Michael, maybe, she’s tolerable…”

"I think my rank prevents me from being able to comment on that, Raphael." 

"Then that's comment enough." 

She rested her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to cut you out. I just- I was scared and worried I'd somehow drag you into it…"

She couldn’t risk saying something and having Samael decide she had betrayed him, and take it out on Aziraphale. He meant more to her than looking after her own happiness, it was why she had refused to see him.

Aziraphale frowned. "Raphael? Are you… in some kind of trouble?" He asked, blue eyes alight with concern.

Raphael refused to meet his gaze, even as he chased hers. She ducked her head, staring at her bare feet and the smooth white stone beneath them. "I guess you could say that, yes." She knew that somehow, her encounter with Samael was going to get her into serious trouble.

His arms wrapped tighter around her. "I'm here to help in any way I can, dear. Whatever it is, you'll get through it. You're the bravest angel I know." He tipped her chin up, gently, she could have refused, but she let him make her meet his gaze. 

His soft fingers brushed her red hair out of her face, tucked it behind her ear. 

Raphael sniffled again. "I think you've forgotten that you know yourself." 

"I didn't tell the Metatron to stuff it the third time they sent me to fix a star. That was all you."

Raphael laughed. "I liked it the way it was. The Metatron didn't." 

"See? Brave. You're going to get through anything." 

Raphael smiled. 

Pressed her lips to the angel's. "As long as I have you,” she whispered. 

Aziraphale smiled at her, but Raphael’s gaze flitted from his pretty blue eyes to the black gaze boring holes in her skull, and a chill ran down her spine.

Samael was watching from down the hall.

  
  


_ Bethlehem, 4 AD _

Raphael had been forced to argue with their brother about getting to be the angel who was to greet the newborn Christ. 

Gabriel had been convinced that he should get to do it, but someone was needed to go inform the shepherds, and  _ Gabriel  _ was the messenger. Raphael was the healer, and Mary had just given birth. A healer would be more use than a Herald. 

And most of all, Raphael wanted to apologize. 

Not that anyone would yet know why. The babe was too young, although he would understand soon. 

_ Yeshua.  _ The chosen lamb for slaughter. 

Myriam didn't know what her baby had been chosen for. She didn't know what would happen to her newborn son. 

Yusuf also didn't know. He barely even knew that this was the Son of God. 

But Raphael knew what was in store for the baby boy. 

They had been forced to attend the council on the decision. 

Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Sandalphon, the Metatron and Raphael had consulted on the policy decision. 

It was the suggestion of the Son of God himself. No archangel opposed the decision. In fact, Raphael's siblings all seemed to endorse the plan wholeheartedly. 

Raphael had abstained from a vote. It had earned a frown from Gabriel, until Michael made a comment about the archangel of healing being unable to condone such a cruel death. 

It wasn't that Raphael didn't want the humans to be saved. They did. They had grown to appreciate the humans over their years spent among them, and had grown a little fond of them. 

They just couldn't force themselves to agree to the plan to sacrifice the Son of God on the cross. 

It felt  _ wrong.  _

"Who goes there?" Yusuf asked, suspicious as the angel approached the door to the stable.

Raphael smiled, raised their hands to show they bore no threat. "I am an angel of the Lord, Yusuf, fear not." 

The new father contemplated them. 

"I am sent by the Lord to greet the child. I will be the first of many visitors, I suspect."

Yusuf eventually nodded and allowed the angel to enter the stable. 

Myriam sat near the manger, the baby Yeshua in her arms.

"Do not be afraid," they said gently, approaching the young mother. They crouched down next to her. "We say that a lot, don't we?"

"You're an angel." Myriam realized, staring at them with wide eyes. 

"You gave birth to the Son of God, an angel can't be that surprising. My name is Raphael." They said, gazing at the mother. 

"You don't look like the other angel."

"That was Gabriel. He's a bit flashier than I. Or did you mean the eyes?" 

"Both. You have the eyes of a serpent. Like the Serpent of Eden."

Stupid Azra and letting that story get mixed up so that it seemed like it was them who had tempted the humans.

"Indeed." 

"Will you tell me why?"

Raphael made a promise to themselves to one day explain the true reason for the difference with Myriam. 

It was an odd promise for them to want to make, considering they had never discussed the proceedings that had led to their physical differences from other angels. 

But somehow, it felt like they owed Myriam anything she asked of them. 

After all, she had given birth to the Lamb of God. 

There was a word for a child who lost their parents. Orphan.

There was no word for a parent who lost their child. Nothing could sum up such pain.

Pain Raphael was going to have to allow. "I'll see you again, and I'll tell you why, if you ask again. But not now. Now you must rest. You will have visitors here soon, shepherds and I'm sure more angels. Tonight will not end for you for a long while. Are you well?" 

"God sent you to check on me? Not the baby?" 

Raphael smiled. "Sort of. I'm the Healer of the Lord, it seemed right that I should come. Believe me, I'm to ensure that Yeshua is safe too, but I can hardly ignore the fact that you have just given birth."

The young mother sighed. "I believe I am as well as I can be." 

Raphael leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, seeking to take away some pain. It was Christ who needed a humble birth, Myriam was not obligated to suffer. She would suffer enough over the course of her life. 

Nothing stopped them. "You should rest, child. I will leave you in peace until your other visitors arrive." 

"I think I'll hold you to your promise, Raphael." 

"I rather expect you will. You'll be the first human to know," they smiled, "and I think you'd be surprised to know the serpent had much less to do with the apple than is commonly believed."

They winked and left the stable.


	9. The Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [The Anchor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bbf-U6G9ndU)

_ You were the light that is blinding me _

_ You're the anchor that I tie to my brain _

_ 'Cause when it feels when I'm lost at sea _

_ You're the song that I sing again and again _

_ Golgotha, 33 AD _

“You knew this would happen all along, didn’t you,” Myriam whispered. 

Raphael didn’t answer. She didn’t need to, Myriam knew the answer. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” She asked, eyes bright with tears. "Why wouldn't you tell me that this was my son's fate?"

The sun was shining brightly, as though it had no knowledge of the somber day it fell upon. It fell upon the gruesome scene before the Archangel and Myriam. 

Yeshua cried out as a nail was driven through his feet. Raphael’s lip curled, she had to look away. She couldn’t stand to see the young lad in such pain. “I was forbidden to tell anyone, Myriam. Yeshua and Heaven alone knew what fate had in store for him. What would happen to him.”

“You have power, do you not? Why would you allow this? Why wouldn't you stop this from happening?"

“I am but one archangel, I was powerless to stop it. This is for the good of all mankind and I had to allow one sacrifice for the salvation of God’s people. I’m just as disturbed as you.” 

Myriam whirled on her. “Do not presume to tell me that,  _ Angel,  _ you who knew he would be put up on the cross and sacrificed all along, I am his  _ mother! _ That is my  _ son _ and I am to watch him  _ die! _ You have no idea how I feel right now!”

Raphael took her fury without complaint. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Myriam. You most of all suffer for this decision.”

“Did you ever meet him?” Myriam asked. 

“I did. He knew who I was. He knew what you once asked of me. Wanted to discuss it. Well, I think he more sensed that I had something to say about it. He was a fine young man, Myriam," Raphael assured her.

Myriam contemplated her for a moment. Her brown eyes struck pain into Raphael's chest. "You are different from the other angels."

"And what makes you say that? The other angels condoned this, what am I doing to stop it? Even if I had wanted to stop it, I am how a witness to it."

"You're here." 

Raphael sighed. "I suppose I am. I truly am sorry, Myriam. This is pain no mother ought to go through." 

She looked at her feet, out over the scene before her. Blood poured from wounds in the Lamb of God's wrists. 

Raphael muttered a prayer. Just a blessing, a simple human prayer, for she could not interfere with these proceedings. 

"You once promised me to you would tell me why you were different."

"I suspected today would not be the day you asked me about that, Myriam. Besides, I am convinced these two differences are separate characteristics."

"Today is not the day I want you to fulfill your promise. I just wanted to know if I can trust your promises."

Raphael pressed a hand to her shoulder. "You can always trust my promises, Myriam." 

The cross was hoisted. Yeshua cried out in pain. 

Myriam turned and sobbed into Raphael's shoulder. 

Gradually, the people thinned out. John the Apostle, who did not recognize the angel, came and took charge of Myriam. 

"I will see you again, Myriam. And I shall tell you what you ask of me." 

She nodded tearfully. 

"I am sorry this has happened to you." 

It was only a few more moments before Azra appeared behind her. "Come to smirk at the poor bugger?" 

Raphael rounded on him. "Smirk?" 

"You voted to put him up there, if the rumours in Hell are true."

"I refused to vote," Raphael countered hotly. "My siblings decided this, I abstained."

"And that makes it all better," Azra scoffed. "Didn't vote to save him, but you're a saint for not voting at all, clearly."

"Do you have a point to being here, Azra, or have you just come to torment me again? I have no qualms with discorporating you again." 

Azra snorted. "I don't believe you. Besides, you think you're the only one who can temporarily destroy the enemy? I can discorporate you, too. Not to mention, last time the archangel decided to dispose of me, Hell sent me back with something to solve the problem."

He pulled a vial from his robe. 

The vial crackled with an ungodly fire. 

Raphael jumped back. "Careful with that! How would you like it if I waved Holy Water around?" She asked. 

Azra laughed, tucked the vial back into his robe. "I wouldn't try smiting me again, Raphael. Best just tolerate me." 

Raphael bit her lip. "Fine. Did you ever meet him?" 

Azra contemplated the man on the cross. "I did. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world."

Raphael felt disgust rise in her throat. She had known that a demon had tried to tempt Christ, she hadn't known it was Azra. "Why? Why did you choose that?"

"I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere, it's  _ Christ _ , so I figured I would show him the world. He was a carpenter from Galilee, his travel opportunities are rather limited." 

Raphael sighed. 

"There is one thing I have to ask. What is it that he said that got everyone so upset?" 

Raphael looked at the demon. "Be kind to one another." 

Azra nodded. "That would do it." 

Raphael expected the demon to leave after he had pestered her sufficiently. 

He didn't. Azra stood by the archangel's side for the full three days that Raphael stood there, praying over the young Christ. 

Sometimes, Raphael could have sworn she heard Azra muttering along with her. 

_ Heaven  _

"Mother does have a plan for the humans. I know not what it may be, but I know it has to do with that tree." Raphael insisted, throwing a rock at the solid apple tree before him. 

It plunked off the trunk with a satisfying sound, and nestled into the soft green grass. 

"Of course the Almighty has a plan for the humans, Raphael, why else would she make them? She has plans for us, too."

"Her plans for the humans aren't like her plans for us. She has something  _ dark  _ planned for them, Aziraphale, I can feel it!"

"I don't think that the Almighty can make a dark plan, Raphael," Aziraphale said rationally. 

"Can't you sense it?" Raphael asked, pacing the grass around where the Principality sat. "There's something going on and it has to do with that tree! And she just told me that she's got something for me to do about it, too. It's not  _ right,  _ Aziraphale."

The angel seemed puzzled. "What are you saying, Raphael?" 

"I'm not going to be a part of it. I refuse to be a part of whatever Mother has planned for the humans. How can I be a part of this plan when it's my job to heal and help?" Raphael asked, tugging his fingers through his curly red hair.

"Raphael, come sit down, stop stressing. I'll preen your wings or something, you can get this off your chest without wearing down all the grass around this tree and losing all your energy." 

The archangel huffed, but reluctantly sat down. 

"Come on now, wings out," Aziraphale prompted, scooting over to Raphael. 

"Is this  _ really  _ necessary? I'm still going to be annoyed at the end of this."

"Doesn't matter. You can preen my wings after if you feel that this was unnecessary and pointless." 

"You have considerably less feathers to go through than I do." 

"Doesn't matter, I quite like your feathers. Now, wings out, and you can keep on venting if you would like." 

Raphael, after a moment of silent protest, spread his three pairs of blue wings. Aziraphale immediately got to work. "Well, you know that no one can  _ make  _ you do anything." 

"What am I supposed to do if I am ordered to have something to do with that blasted tree?" Raphael asked. 

Aziraphale was silent for a while. "Well, you could always refuse."

Raphael's brow furrowed. "Refuse?"

"I for one, if I were told to do something I disagreed with, would simply not agree to do it." 

"So you'll disagree too?" Raphael asked, eyes wide. 

Aziraphale seemed to need to consider that. "Indeed."

"You would refuse your heavenly duty just because I complained about an apple tree."

Aziraphale straightened a primary feather from where it had folded over. "It's not just because of you, Raphael, you should be careful about your pride, dear."

Raphael couldn't help but laugh. 

"I would do it because I think you're right. I think a plan that could harm the humans is wrong and I don't want to take part in it."

Raphael shifted around, pulled the principality into his arms. "So we'll stand together then."

"Always, dearest." 

"I see you're back to chitchatting with the principality."

Raphael jumped and nearly shrieked as Samael walked up behind him. "Why are you following me?" He demanded. 

"Just making sure you haven't told anyone. After all, how else am I to know when I should go after your darling little principality?" Samael asked. 

He had the black leather-bound book in his head. Raphael's soft golden gaze flicked down to it, and then back up to his older brother. "I haven't told anyone. I'm not going to."

He couldn't. Samael had managed to completely tie his hands in the matter, there was no way Raphael could make himself put Aziraphale in danger.

Even if it meant he had to allow Samael to continue his ways. He couldn't put Aziraphale on the line.

"Surely you can't blame me for needing to make sure," Samael purred, smiling down at his brother. 

Raphael set his mouth in a hard line. "You wouldn't have had to make sure if you could have just left me out of it!" 

Samael looked offended. "You can't blame me for thinking that you might appreciate a little freedom, Raphael. I didn't take you for a little clone of Michael, or God forbid, Gabriel." 

"Why would you think I would want anything to do with you and your crimes?" Raphael demanded. "I don't know what you've been doing lately, but I want nothing to do with it!"

Samael sneered. "Of course you don't. Have to be Mother's perfect little angel. Pathetic." 

The word stung. Samael had never talked to him like this before. Samael was the angel who had taught him to fly and make stars and planets, it was wounding to hear him speak like this. With such unveiled scorn at his youngest brother. 

"If you dislike me so much, why will you not just leave me be, Samael?" Raphael asked, glaring at him. 

"Because you seem to think you're so damn smart, Raphael, and it's fun to see how little you know. You have  _ no  _ idea what's coming, little brother, and I look forward to seeing the look on your face when you find out." 

Samael whirled around to walk away. 

Raphael didn't wait for him to leave. He spread his wings and took off back towards heaven, shaken to his very core. 

He arrived back in the silver city rather quickly, ducked his head and made for the observatory. He didn't want to speak to anyone, run into anyone, he just needed to be alone. 

He pushed past Gabriel without giving his brother a chance to speak, feet pounding on the marble floors, mock g as quickly as he could. Gabriel gave chase for a few moments, but seemed to give up as he realized his brother did  _ not  _ want to be disturbed. 

The observatory was mercifully empty. He closed the door, sealed it with a miracle, and rushed to the observation window. 

It had always been a calm place for him. To stare out into every galaxy and star and black hole and every atom that filled the space between heaven and earth and far out into the great unknown expanses of the universe. 

There was the star that the Metatron had scolded him for. 

The humans, when they eventually found it, would call it Vera's star. It spun chaotically, almost enough to tear itself apart. Raphael hadn't  _ meant  _ to make it like that, and hadn't been told to make it like that. In fact, the Metatron had tried three times to make him go and fix it, but Raphael liked it how it was, hovering at the edge of destruction.

Right now, it felt like that was where he sat. He didn't know what he could do. Samael had something planned, God had something planned, and while Raphael would never admit it, reading the book Samael had stolen got more and more tempting the more the Great Plan was discussed. Raphael knew it wasn't going to be good, knew he didn't want a part in it. All he wanted to do was what he was created to do. Heal and tend and create. 

There was a knock at the door. "Raphael? Will you let me in?" 

It was Michael. Raphael didn't answer for a moment. 

Michael sighed. "You don't have to agree, brother. I just know that something is bothering you and wanted to check on you." 

Raphael sighed and snapped their fingers, allowing the door to open. Michael stepped into the observatory. 

Walked up to the window, rested an arm across his shoulders. "You and Samael did an excellent job up there."

Raphael had to fight hard not to wince at mention of his older brother. 

"You don't have to talk about it. I just want to be here for you. You can talk to me about the stars, if you prefer."

"You're not interested in the stars," Raphael said, gazing out across the sparkling lights. You and Uriel and Gabriel have no interest in the cosmos."

"That isn't true," Michael protested. "You simply enjoyed working up there a lot more than some of us. I am sure they will make excellent guiding lights to the humans upon their creation."

"I tried to make it like a small glimpse of the Heavens." 

"Something that will be much appreciated during the Great Plan, I am sure." 

Raphael frowned. "Has Mother told you something she hasn't told me?" 

Michael just smiled, green eyes bright and kind. "If I know anything you don't, I am certain that Mother arranged it that way for a reason. I am sure you will learn all you need to know, when the time is right."

"It feels like something dark is gathering on the horizon."

Michael contemplated that for a few minutes, gazing out across the nebulae and galaxies that spread across the black silk sky before them. "Then I am sure your stars will make excellent guides during that dark and tumultuous time."

Raphael wasn't content with that answer. He stood there for a few more moments, allowing Michael to allow the subject was dropped, then turned to leave. 

"Gone so soon?"

"I should check if there is anything I ought to be doing right now. The stars are complete, for the time being, I'm sure there are more urgent matters than observing them."

Michael nodded. "Try not to worry too much, Raphael. Everything is going to work out according to the Great Plan in the end."

Raphael was starting to doubt that was as reassuring as she made it sound.


	10. Sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Sober](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIaJmCzMq5Y)

_As you dance on your burning coals_

_I feel the bullet holes_

_Tell myself I've got nothing to lose_

_Though your touch gives me vertigo, I'm like a domino_

_Darling I keep falling back to you_

_Golgotha, 33 AD, three days later_

With one final shove, Raphael shouldered the stone away from the entrance of the tomb. Her feet slid on the rocky ground as she pushed the stone from its place. 

The effort, supernaturally powered or not, left her a little fatigued. She climbed atop the rock and sat upon it to rest.

The guards stared up at in her in horror. "Go!" Raphael ordered, narrowing her eyes at them, and they fled. 

She turned to the women who approached the tomb. 

Myriam of Magdala, and Myriam, Mother of James.

Myriam of Magdela seemed surprised to see her. Unlike the disciples at the crucifixion, she appeared to recognize the angel. She walked directly up to the stone. 

Raphael spoke before she could. "Do not be afraid. I know you have come to see Christ, who was crucified. I am to tell you that he is not here. He has risen, as he said he would. Come and see the place where he laid, and then go and tell his disciples, 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you."

She slid down from the stone. "However, no one said I couldn't accompany you."

"You do not have doubts, do you, angel?" Myriam of Magdala asked. 

"Of course not. I simply wish to speak with him before he rejoins the ranks in Heaven." 

"Well then, please do join us, Raphael," Myriam invited, gesturing for her to follow. 

So she did. They walked in silence, until they came across of man on the path. 

Yeshua urged them to continue to Galilee, to tell his disciples where to meet him. The women eventually did so.

Then he turned to Raphael. "I did not expect you to come again." 

"Someone had to tell them you were risen, and Gabriel is quite occupied elsewhere."

"And yet you came all the way to me. Far more than your duty." 

"Well, perhaps I ought not admit my motives, then."

"I know why you're here, Raphael. I confused you at our last encounter," Yeshua said. "You come seeking answers. To seek the truth is not an impure motive."

Raphael nodded. 

"So ask, Raphael."

"Why did you apologize to me when we first met? It is I who has wronged you, condemning you to this fate."

Yeshua laughed. "You did not vote upon my fate."

"I did not vote against it."

"This truly was the only way, Raphael. No one else could do it, no other way would work. I do not resent you just as I do not resent your siblings. This was how it had to be."

Raphael nodded. "But why apologize?"

Yeshua sighed. "Because you were not meant to be punished, Raphael. God did not intend your suffering, and I am, in spirit, God. The Metatron chose your fate, and they chose harsher than anticipated."

Raphael bit her lip. "There had to be a consequence."

"You were not meant to be cursed. Not after Gabriel saved you. I cannot undo it, but I felt the need to apologize for it."

Raphael shrugged her shoulders. "What I did cannot be done without incurring a consequence, Yeshua. The Almighty left my fate to the Metatron, and I have never resented them for their choice."

"I know you do not resent them. But perhaps I wish to clear my own conscience." 

"If you felt guilty for something, the whole trick on the cross wouldn't have worked."

"Perhaps it's not guilt, then. But regardless, I am sorry."

"You don't owe me an apology."

"And you didn't owe me one, but yet you argued with your brother to be able to go and see my mother and I the night I was born to apologize. Now we're even." 

_Rome, 41 AD_

Raphael was only in Rome for a quick miracle. To be honest, it wasn't their favourite place to be, and they wouldn't have gone if Gabriel hadn't insisted.

He had agreed to let him handle everything with Yeshua, and now Raphael owed him. 

So he'd been forced to drag himself to Rome and handle whatever it was that Gabriel wanted done. 

Which was finished now. 

Which meant he could do as he liked, until he was given a new assignment. Which was probably going to be handed out soon. 

But for now, he laced up his sandals, fixed his glasses to his face, a recent invention and very handy for keeping the serpent's eyes hidden from human gaze, and headed to a tavern.

"I'll have a jug of whatever in here is drinkable," he said, sitting down on one of the stools. His white robe got caught under his foot and he almost tripped trying to do so, but managed to catch himself on the counter. 

The barmaid snickered, placed a clay cup and a jug in front of him. "House brown. Two sesterces." 

Raphael pulled coins out of a pocket that had not contained coins before that, tossed them to the barmaid. 

Poured himself a cup of the wine and took a sip. 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he almost dropped the clay cup. "Fancy meeting you here, Raphael!"

"Azra. Still a demon, I see, and dressed to look the part," Raphael sighed, looked over the demon, in his black robe and purple threading.

"Well, that's a stupid thing to say, of course I'm still a demon. What else am I going to be? An aardvark? You're the only one with the possibility of a change. I see you're still clinging to the snake motif," he poked the gold serpent clasp on Raphael's robe. "And you're one to talk about looking the part. All this white and gold." 

"I am a serpent, Azra, that hasn't changed, no matter what the humans think the serpent did in the garden. What are you here for?" 

Azra smiled. "Just here to influence Emperor Caligula, not that much influence is required there. The boy is fantastically twisted, vile deeds come naturally to him. That will be a smashing success on my record with Head Office. And you? What is the serpent here for?" 

Raphael sipped his drink, handed the jug over to Azra for him to have a taste. "A boy named Nero. I'm meant to influence him. I thought maybe I would get him interested in music. No harm in music," he remarked, swirling the wine around in the cup. "He seemed to enjoy the cithara."

Azra wrinkled his nose, poured himself a drink. "You really ought to just leave that boy to us. He's fated for terrible things." 

Raphael glared at him. "That would be exactly why I've been told to do something about it. And why are you being all friendly now? The last time I saw you, you threatened me with hellfire."

"I'm just warning you, I don't see it turning out that well. We have him earmarked for our books, they're already talking about his punishment. His and Caligula's." Azra conveniently didn't answer Raphael's question.

"Wonderful. I got sent for another mission I was doomed to fail." 

"Sounds like it, Raphael. Really, you must stop getting into these situations, it's not good for you, dear." 

Raphael choked on his wine. "Dear?" It felt as though someone had kicked the air out of his lungs.

"Well your name is quite long. You could use a nickname." 

"But _dear?"_ Raphael asked. 

He must have sounded more offended than hurt, since Azra immediately tried to come up with something else. 

"I could just call you angel."

"No no, whatever you chose is fine, Azra," Raphael said easily. "Just. Dear? Is there a reason for that?" 

"Should there be?" 

Raphael squashed down the memory of every time Aziraphale had called him 'dear boy.' "No, no reason. It's just a very familiar nickname to give your hereditary enemy, Azra."

"I like to think of it as being condescending, dear," Azra replied. The demon downed the last of his wine and stood to leave. 

"Of course you do." Raphael stared down into his wine. "I'll see you around, then."

"I suppose you will. I do owe you a drink now."

_Israel, 44 AD_

"Sit down, Myriam, I think it is high time I make good on my promise," Raphael motioned for the now-old woman to sit down. "John has been taking good care of you, you look well." 

"You waited so long I thought you weren't going to make good on your promise," Myriam said, walking over to sit beside him.

"I know, and I shouldn't have. But you will hear the story before you pass, as the only angel who gets to argue with Death, I can assure you of that. Azreal owes me a favour, last time I checked," Raphael assured her. 

"I wasn't aware Death traded favours. They don't seem the type." 

"They don't, not with humans. But we've known each other a long time, Death and I," Raphael said. 

Myriam nodded. "So, angel? Why are you so different from the rest of your kind."

"It's a long story. And it starts, as it will end, with a Fall." 

Specifically, the war just before the Fall. There was unrest in Heaven long before humans were created, Raphael had gotten a warning that had not been enough to prepare them for the horror that had been approaching. 

It had started when Gabriel had shaken him awake. He didn't really _need_ to sleep, but occasionally he enjoyed resting his eyes and body.

To say that it started then would be a lie. Samael had been showing signs of what was yet to come, but this was the first of what was coming.

Something was wrong, Raphael could tell from the look on his brother's face. He sat up quickly. "Gabe?"

"Raphael come quickly… it's Samael."

Raphael was on his feet and racing down the hall in seconds. His hair was in his face, and for the first time he wondered why he kept it so long.

He could hear yelling. He started running even faster. 

Samael was yelling. 

He was the last of his siblings in the room, Gabriel ducking back in ahead of him. Michael stood at Mother's side, Uriel behind Michael, and Samael was shouting.

About revolution.

He had the black leather book in his hands. "And I think you'll find I'm far from alone in these beliefs! Your ideas are musty and old and ill-advised, and even people who won't stand with me know it!"

Samael's black gaze fell on Raphael, who flinched. 

"And now, there will be no more of this petty obedience. I'm not the only one who's had enough, _Mother._ And I think it's time someone else came to power." 

And with that, Samael lunged at their Mother, only to be intercepted by Michael.

And all of the sudden, there was a commotion from outside the private room, and Raphael staggered at the sudden knowledge that people were being hurt. 

He didn't wait for instruction, to be dismissed and sent to help. There was nothing he could do between Michael and Samael, not until someone was injured. 

He fled the room and into the middle of what was now a battleground. 

Angels clashed with angels, swords shrieking against swords, celestial weapons striking celestial flesh. 

Raphael rushed to the first angel he saw who's injuries had caused him to fall to his knees. He pressed his hand to the chest of the angel, someone he knew well. An angel who had enjoyed coming up with insects. 

He forced flesh to knit back together, the blood to cease its flow. 

He had just moved his hand away when the floor opened up below the angel and he plummeted from sight. 

Raphael leapt back, staring in horror as the angel fell farther and farther away, wings burning as he rushed through the air. 

Raphael only got a few seconds to stare before he was drawn back into the fray. 

Michael tried to hand him a sword, he wondered when she had gotten away from Samael as she held it out to him, but he refused it.

He would not draw a weapon on his fellow angels. He couldn't. He turned away from the sword and ran from his sister.

Summoned his staff to his hand and resolved to do his duty. To heal. 

He flitted from angel to angel, trying to tend to the worst of wounds that he could spot. Pressing his cold hands to bloody gashes and cuts, muttering prayer after prayer, ceasing blood flow, sealing flesh.

He'd healed many a time before, but he had never been under this sort of pressure, with the potential of lives on the line.

The first angel was far from the only to plummet out of sight, screaming as they fell.

He launched himself into the middle of the fray, heedless of his own peril. Swords slashed at his face, clipped at his wings.

Someone stabbed towards the angel he was healing, and Raphael didn't think. He threw himself over the angel and put himself in the way. The sword caught him in the side, plunging deep into his stomach and leaving him on the ground, gasping for air. He tried to focus his energy to healing himself, tried to stop the blood but his attention kept slipping away, as though his bloodied fingers were grasping at a ledge but kept sliding off to leave him to plummet. 

"Raphael!" Gabriel cried, running over to his side. He flagged over one of the archangel's other healers, grasped his brother's hand. "You're going to be okay, someone's coming to help…" 

The healer ran over, pressed hands against his wounds. 

After a few minutes, he could breathe properly again. Gabriel let him gasp for a moment before helping him to his feet. "Are you okay?" 

"I have to be," Raphael muttered. "Thank you."

"Be careful, brother."

Raphael finished healing the angel he had saved and launched himself back into the fray.

It wasn't until the first death that he slowed down. The first time Azreal pried a life out of Raphael's fingers.

A life he fought to keep his grasp on until blood poured freely from his nose and eyes and his fingers shook from effort and he started to feel faint.

Michael pulled him away, made him let go, barely gave him a moment to recover before pushing him back out into the chaos.

Pushing him back out into the war where he was bound to lose another angels.

He healed indiscriminately, not caring who swung a sword at who. 

Until he reached the middle of the fray. 

Until he reached Samael. 

Raphael walked past his wounded brother, and watched as the ground opened up beneath him, allowing him to fall.

He watched his brother fall from Heaven. Not with joy, but with relief. 

He foolishly believed that the fall marked the end of his suffering at his brother's hand.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a few things! One, I promise we'll go back to the present and the bandstand next time, I'm just frightfully behind with the past shots and have to hurry up and show them and didn't have time for it here.  
> Two, all future flashbacks in heaven are in the context of Raphael telling Myriam about it, I just don't like writing first person so I've kept the third person narrative. Hope it's not confusing!


	11. Castle of Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Castle of Glass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRGSHvlu9Ss)

_ Bring me home in a blinding dream _

_ Through the secrets that I have seen _

_ Wash the sorrow from off my skin _

_ Show me how to be whole again _

_ 'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass _

_ Hardly anything there for you to see _

_ For you to see _

"You said to meet you here?" Raphael said, picking their way up the steps to the bandstand. 

Azra was waiting, in his black leather coat that reminded Raphael of a bat's wings, they had always liked bats, staring at him with intense, pupil-less blue eyes. "Do you have any news?" He asked abruptly. 

"News about what?" Raphael asked, puzzled look on their face. 

The look was met with exasperation. "Have you found the name address and shoe size of the missing Antichrist yet?" 

"Shoe size? Why would I know his shoe size? Do you know anything?" 

"No. And it's a joke, Raphael. Lighten up. But what are we going to do about the missing Antichrist? Why can't we find him?" 

"It's the Great plan, Azra." 

Azra's expression soured in seconds. "For the record, great pastullent,  _ mangled bollocks  _ to the great  _ blasted _ plan!" He shouted at the sky. 

Raphael looked down. "I know you'll be forgiven." 

Azra scoffed. "Forgiven? I'll never be forgiven! That's part of my nature, it's the deal of being a demon! I'm be definition unforgivable!" 

"You were an angel, once," Raphael said.

Things were so much simpler when Azra had been an angel. When they had been free to be in love, when they hadn't been on opposite sides. 

When Azra hadn't been the enemy. 

Azra glared at him. "That was a  _ long  _ time ago."

He paced around for a few moments. "We find the boy. My agents can do it, I know they can."

"And then what?" Raphael demanded, taking a step closer to the demon. "What are we supposed to do after? Kill him?" 

"Eh, one of us. Personally I'm not up for killing kids, and you have the experience." 

Raphael took another step closer. "You know damn well I don't," they hissed, glaring over the gold edges of their glasses. "I'm an angel. An  _ archangel.  _ I don't have to kill anyone, particularly not a kid! You should do it, and then heaven and I won't have blood on our hands!" 

And then they wouldn't have interfered directly. Then their crimes couldn't be weighted as heavily against themselves and Gabriel.

"No blood on your hands? What do you call the flood? You sound a fair bit holier-than-thou for someone who played games with children while they were drowning!" Azra accused. 

"I am a great deal holier than thou, that's the whole point! You're a demon, and I'm an archangel!" 

The demon sneered. "Because that's meant so much to you before. You should kill the boy. Could do it with the holy blessing of God like the flood all over again!" 

"I am not killing anyone! I'm a  _ healer,  _ for God's sake! I'm not going to murder a child for you!" 

Hurt flashed momentarily across Azra's face. "You're ridiculous. All of this is ridiculous. I don't even know why I'm still talking to you. I'm leaving."

He turned and began to walk away. 

"You can't leave, Azra!" Raphael called after him. "There isn't anywhere to go!" 

Azra spun back around. "It's a big universe! Even if this world winds up a steaming puddle of incandescent jelly, we could go off together!" 

"Go off together?" Raphael repeated, dumbstruck. "Do you hear yourself, Azra?"

"How long have we been friends, Raphael? Six thousand years!" 

"Friends?" Raphael repeated.

They couldn't be friends with a demon. The reality of what this meant started to crash in on them. The reality of the fact that they weren't just risking their own fate but their brother's too started to dawn on them. 

They couldn't be friends. Not with Azra. "We're not friends! We are an angel and a demon, we have absolutely nothing in common! I don't even like you!" 

The lie burned all the way up their throat. Lies normally came easily to Raphael, this one threatened to choke them. 

But they had to. For Gabriel's sake. 

"You  _ adore  _ me!" 

"Even if I did know where the Antichrist was, I wouldn't tell you! We are on opposite sides!" 

"We're on  _ our  _ side!" Azra insisted. 

"There is no our side!" Raphael exploded. 

'Our side' put too much at risk for them to allow it to exist. Not now that it really mattered. "Not anymore. It's over."

Azra stared at them in unmasked shock."Over?" He rolled the word on his tongue. "Over? Right then." 

He turned around, went down the steps of the bandstand. 

Raphael looked down, bit their lip. 

Azra turned back. "Have a nice doomsday!" 

And then he was gone, and Raphael was free to crack under the pressure building up inside them like a balloon about to pop.

_ Kingdom of Wessex, 537  _

Raphael had a sinking feeling that she knew who the damned black knight she was supposed to go talk to was. 

And she was not thrilled about the assignment. Not only because it was cold and foggy and damp and she was forced to wear this clanky armour that didn't really do shit for keeping her warm, even with the fur lining her cape. It would take a miracle for her to feel her fingers again, and it was a miracle that Gabriel was going to notice she had performed. 

He was getting a little fed up with the frivolous miracles, although that bit with the sword had paid off. 

The sword that was just a bit  _ too  _ familiar to Raphael, for a reason she couldn't place.

But sticking it in the stone had worked out pretty well for her and the Kingdom of Wessex. Arthur was a good king. 

And somehow she had managed to find herself as a member of the Table Round during this whole ordeal. She had quite thought her current appearance barred any possibility of being knighted, but apparently King Arthur was nothing if not progressive. 

Or he just hadn't noticed under all the armor and with the name Raphael.

Either way, King Arthur was progressive enough to get her traipsing through the damp and cold to go find the mysterious 'Black Knight.' 

She cleared her throat. "Hello?" She called, squinting in the fog. "Hello? It is I, Sir Raphael, of the Table Round! I am here to speak with the Black Knight."

Something crawled out of the darkness. Beckoned her forwards. Raphael sighed and complied, gold-painted armor creaking with her steps. "I wish to speak with the Black Knight." 

A figure approached her, tall and broad and dressed in black armor. "You have sought the Black Knight, foolish one, but you have found your death." 

Raphael huffed. "Azra, why am I not surprised." She flipped her mask up, tugged off the helmet entirely, the inside was chilled and going frosty with her breath, shook her long red hair loose. 

Azra sighed. "It's alright, I know her, you guys can go," he said to his followers, flipping up the mask of his helmet. "What are you doing here, Raphael?" 

"King Arthur sent me to check on you. What are you doing here, Azra?" She asked, blew a piece of hair out of her face. 

"Oh, you know how it is, Angel. I got a memo from head office that King Arthur had been promoting too much peace and tranquility throughout the land, so I got sent to spread foment."

"Is that some kind of porridge? Ghastly stuff, porridge."

"I'm surprised you've even tasted any. I hardly believe you've eaten anything in your time on earth. And no, it's not porridge, it's… you know, foment! Spreading evil and trouble!" 

Raphael frowned. "Head office has me… fomenting peace." 

Azra rolled his eyes. "So we're both working very hard in damp places, and just cancelling each other out." 

Raphael looked around. "I suppose it is a bit damp." 

Her toes felt like they were molding together, it was so damnably wet. 

"Be easier if we both went home." 

"I'm sorry?" Raphael stared at him, gold eyes wide. 

"Well, you know, Angel, we could just send letters back to our head offices, telling them we've done our jobs, and then we could both go home!" 

Raphael frowned. "But wouldn't that be lying?" 

"Well, possibly, the end result would be the same. We cancel each other out!" Azra reasoned. 

"But what if they found out?" 

Gabriel couldn't find out something like that, not after what they had been through. Not after what her brother had done for her. She owed it to Gabriel to do as she was told, and not step out of line. She had to do what she was ordered by Heaven to do. 

The consequences were too dire for herself and Gabriel.

"They'll never find out!" 

The more Raphael thought of it, the worse it felt. She couldn't do that, it was far too dangerous. How could Azra even suggest such a thing? 

"Absolutely not. I cannot believe you would ever propose such a thing. We're not having this conversation!"

Azra looked stung, shocked. "Fine!" 

Raphael tugged her helmet back on and turned around. 

She heard Azra shrug before turning to leave.

_ Heaven _

"What just happened?" 

"Where did they go?"

"Why did they go?"

"Why did they rebel?" 

"What happens now?"

Angels were shouting questions at the Metatron, even before the battlefield was fully cleared. Blood still soaked the floor and splattered swords, flecked across faces of angels.

Aziraphale ignored them all. He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, had sustained worse damage but one of Raphael's healers had refused to let him start running around searching. 

Searching for the Archangel. He hadn't seen Raphael since before the battle, and didn't know what had become of him. 

He didn't know whether the Archangel was one of the slain, being picked up off the ground and carried to the hall outside the infirmary, covered in white silk sheets until something was thought of to do with the bodies. 

No angel had ever died before. There had never been a lost life in Heaven before. They didn't know what to do with what remained of the dead. There was no room in the infirmary, and so they had been laid on the white stone floor and covered with silk.

There were far, far too many silk-wrapped bodies being carted away.

The infirmary was packed with angels that hadn't been healed yet, who's wounds were too severe to be healed on the battlefield. 

It had never needed to be full before. Normally, when Raphael said he was busy, he was walking between maybe three angels, with sprained joints or painful feathers. 

Now, every bed in the room that had always seemed so big for no reason was full. That was what he had been told.

Maybe Raphael was in there, tending the injured, Aziraphale didn't know. 

Maybe he was cloaked under a silk sheet in the hall, hidden from view.

Or maybe, although he hardly dared to think it, maybe Raphael wasn't  _ in  _ Heaven anymore.

Aziraphale wasn't sure what he would do if that was true.

Finally, he ran into one of Raphael's healers. 

Who didn't tell him where the Archangel was, simply pointed him towards the infirmary. 

Aziraphale's hands grew numb and cold, legs stiffening as he walked past white silk sheet upon white silk sheet, laid upon the ground, some soaked with blood in various spots. 

The healer couldn't have meant… not one of those, surely? Surely an  _ Archangel  _ couldn't die in the first war? 

Aziraphale had nearly been brave enough to lift the corner of one of the silk sheets when Uriel poked her head out of the infirmary. Her warm brown eyes scanned the crowd until she spotted him. "Aziraphale! He's in here!" 

Relief surged into Aziraphale as he ran to the door. "Is he alright?" He asked, blue eyes bright with concern.

Uriel seemed to hesitate on that. "It's hard to say. His injuries have been tended to, he's a healer he didn't suffer many, but… I've never seen him like this. Not this weak, not this frail."

Aziraphale rushed into the infirmary. 

Raphael's remaining siblings were gathered around a bed in the far corner, tucked against a wall. Michael had an arm around Gabriel's shoulders. The principality ran over, stopped a little out of the way, out of respect for Raphael's siblings, as Uriel ran to stand beside her brother. Michael pulled Aziraphale towards her, wrapped her other arm around him. "He should be okay," she whispered. "But…"

"You've never seen him like this before." 

Neither had Aziraphale. 

The archangel was laying on the bed, pale as the sheets that covered it, shadows black as the night sky Raphael loved so dearly under his eyes. His dark freckles were a stark contrast to his white skin.

But that was far from the worst of it. 

Trails of blood leaked down from the archangel's nose, eyes, down his sharp cheeks and across his lips, down his chin, dripped onto his robe. 

His hair was a mess, in several cases stuck in the blood on his face, tangled and matted around his head. There was a gash on his forehead, as though someone had struck him in the head with the end of a sword.

"He overexerted himself, Aziraphale. Too much healing, there was just too much and he fought too hard. He'd never lost someone before today, and I should have known he wouldn't let go. He wouldn't let go the first time, I had to make him, and of course he wouldn't later. One of his healers found him like this," Michael explained. "Rushed him here. He's not hurt badly, not anymore, that was tended to. But… we don't know when he'll wake up."

Aziraphale stared in horror. The Archangel's chest rose and fell somewhat unsteadily, an arm sprawled across his stomach. His hands were soaked and sticky with drying blood, it was crusted under his fingernails, was spattered up his arms, collected in the sleeves of his white robe. It was a startling contrast, the red with the white. 

"Can… can I stay here? With him?" Aziraphale asked. "I know there will be clean up to do and we should report to the Metatron but-"

"Of course. We all will but…" Gabriel gave his siblings a quick look. "We'll give you a moment. I'll speak to the Metatron, see what they need us to know."

Michael and Uriel nodded. The eldest gave his shoulders a squeeze, and then they stepped away. Gabriel made his way out of the room.

Aziraphale fell to his knees, took Raphael's blood-sticky hand in both of his. "You have to be okay…" he whispered, pressing his lips against the angel's cold fingers. "You have to be okay, you were just doing what you're supposed to you have to be okay…"

Raphael didn't give him any reason to think that he had heard what Aziraphale said. 

"Please, please, please, you have to be okay…" he breathed, felt tears gathering in his eyes. "If you're not okay then… then…" 

Then what was the point of making it out of the war alive, if he was just going to lose the reason he had wanted to?


	12. HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qnnym2a8V20)

_ I got too high again _

_ Realized I can't not be with you _

_ Or be just your friend _

_ I love you to death _

_ But I just can't, I just can't pretend _

_ We were lovers first _

_ Confidants but never friends _

_ Were we ever friends? _

_ The Globe Theatre, London, 1601 _

Azra was waiting for him in the theatre. 

Technically, that was because he was late. He had promised to be there for the start of the show, and now it was clearly not Act One. 

_ "To be, or not to be? That is the question. Whether t'is nobler in the mind to-" _

"Azra! You said no one would notice us here!" He hissed, walking up to the demon. "Said we'd blend in among the crowds!" 

"Well, that was the idea," Azra admitted, huffing. "Would you like a grape?" 

"No, thanks," Raphael replied. "Did you drag me out to another gloomy play, Azra? You know I don't care for his gloomy ones. And that’s probably why no one is here!"

"Says the angel I  _ know  _ inspired  _ Romeo and Juliet. _ Seriously, what is that all about? Some reason why you were so desperate for a tragic lover's tale when you don't like the gloomy ones?" Azra asked. “What made you want to see a forbidden romance between two people of opposing families, Raphael?”

"It’s none of your business. I did rather like Romeo and Juliet, until you got involved with it and ruined it. Underage? Suicide?" 

"Oh, come on now. It was still very good. Besides, Hell assumed that since you were interfering with it, it was important, and sent me to ruin it." 

"Azra, what do you want?" 

"Why ever would you-"

"Shush, your word guru is walking over here."

"Prithee, gentlemen! Might I request a small favour? Could you, in your role as the audience, give us more to work with?" Shakespeare requested. 

"Oh, you mean like when the ghost of his father came on stage and I said 'he's behind you!'?" Azra asked. 

"Yes! That was jolly helpful. Made everyone on stage feel… appreciated."

Raphael rolled his eyes. 

"Good Master Burbage, please speak the lines trippingly!" 

"I am wasting my time up here!" The young man, presumably playing Hamlet.

"No! No you're very good!" Azra assured him. "I love all the… talking." 

"And what does your friend think?" 

"We're not friends. I've never met this man before in my life!"

Raphael huffed. "I think you should get on with the play."

"Yes! Indeed!" Shakespeare agreed. The bard started to walk off. 

"He is very good, isn't he?" 

"Age doth not wither, nor custom stale his infinite variety."

"I like that. I might use that." 

"So what do you want, Azra."

"Why ever would you infer that I want something?" Azra asked, looking offended. 

Raphael just shot him a look. "You are up to no good."

"Obviously. You're up to good, I assume? Lots of good deeds?" Azra mocked. 

"I'm meant to be in Edinburgh next week for the festival. Apparently, I'm meant to ride a horse."

Azra frowned. "Hard on the buttocks, horses. Major design flaw, if you ask me. You should have said something about it when they were being made."

"And you? What are you up to?"

"I'm meant to be in Edinburgh  _ too,"  _ Azra mentioned. "Tempting a clan leader to steal something. Bit of a waste, both of us going to Edinburgh." 

Raphael shot him a glare. "You can't possibly be suggesting…"

"What would I be suggesting?" Azra asked with feigned innocence. 

"What I infer that you're implying…"

"Which is?" 

"That only one of us goes to Edinburgh. Does the blessing and the tempting."

Raphael could not believe that he had ever agreed to these schemes. If Gabriel ever found out he had performed any temptations, he was through. Not only was he through, Gabriel was as well. He couldn't afford that risk.

"We've done it before. Dozens of times already. You know, the arrangement…"

"Don't say it out loud!" Raphael hissed. He glanced around the room as though someone were listening to their conversation. 

"Come on. I'll toss you for Edinburgh." 

"No."

"Our respective head offices don’t care how things get done, they just want to know they can cross it off the list! Toss you for Edinburgh!" 

It was far too dangerous. It was stupid. "But if Hell finds out, they won’t just be angry. They’ll destroy you!”

There, now it looked like he was protecting Azra, and there was no way the demon wouldn’t act in self-interest. He was a demon, after all.

“Nobody ever has to know! Toss you for Edinburgh!”

Or not. Well, if Heaven hadn’t noticed yet, surely they wouldn’t notice this time. “Fine. I'm flipping the coin. You cheat."

Azra handed him a coin. Raphael inspected it for any demonic tricks, then flipped it. "Heads or tails."

"Heads."

Raphael looked at his hand, and the glinting coin within it. "Tails I'm afraid, you're going to Scotland." 

Azra sighed. "Fine. You're right, I would have cheated on that one. Scotland is a horrible place." 

Behind them, Shakespeare huffed. "It's been like this every performance, Juliet. A complete dud. It would take a miracle to get anyone to come and see Hamlet!" 

Azra shot Raphael a look. 

It only took a moment for that face to crumble the Archangel's resolve. "Fine, I'll do that one, my treat. But I still prefer the funny ones!" 

“I know you do, Angel!”

_ Paris, 1793 _

“And let me guess, getting out of these falls under those miracles you don’t want me doing right now,” Raphael muttered, rolling his eyes. 

He gave the chains around his wrists a tug, and was disappointed to find that they held fast.

Outside the window, the blade sang as it fell, and the crowd cheered. 

This was going to be an unpleasant way to get discorporated, Raphael could tell. How had he gotten himself in this? He had simply been sneaking around trying to figure out where the Queen’s young son was imprisoned. Heaven had decided they would like to see him survive the current revolution.

But alas, though Raphael knew where he was, he had been caught trying to get to Louis-Charles. 

And that was one way to guarantee the revolutionists decided you were working on the wrong side.

Inside the Bastille, the cell door rattled and the executioner walked in.

“Ah, la chante de la lame est la joie du peuple!” He exclaimed, walking over to the Archangel. “Magnifique, non? Maintenant, examinons votre cou!”

Raphael jerked away as the man made a grab for his neck. “Monsieur, c’est une grande erreur!” He exclaimed.

“C’est une erreur que vous aviez été vue en train d’essayer de sauter le fils du roi de sa prison?”

It didn’t exactly look good for him. He fell silent.

The blade rose and fell again. A woman screamed. The crowd cheered.

“C’est terrible, non?”   
“Oui! Enlever la tête de cette pauvre femme!” Raphael agreed, hoping he had found an unlikely ally.

"C'est Pierre. Il relâche toujours le corde bien trop vite! Vous êtes chanceux que c'est moi, Jean-Claude, qui séparera votre tête traitre de vos épaules,” the executioner said. 

"Vraiment, c'est une erreur. Je ne suis pas-"

"Mauvaises nouvelles pour vous, qu'il n'y a pas une autre personne qui est venue avant vous autres. Vous êtes le neuf cent quatre-vingt dix-neuvième aristo que j'aurai tué à la guillotine. Maintenant-" he reached for Raphael’s neck again, trying to undo the buttons of his collar. 

Considering this was a guillotine and not a hangman’s rope, Raphael really wasn’t sure why that was necessary anyways. He jerked away, got to his feet. "S'il vous plaît, non! Il serait vraiment une maladroite si vous m'enlevez cette corporation, je l'ai depuis l'Éden! Ce sera un vrai cauchemar!"

The blade sang as it sailed down towards another victim. The executioner turned to watch, a smile on his face.

"Ils sont des animaux!"

“Cool it with the french, Angel, I’m out of practice in that language. Besides, animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, only humans do that.”

“Azra!” Raphael turned towards the shadows, where Azra was standing. In a black shirt and plum-purple coat, he was almost difficult to spot through Raphael’s black sunglasses. 

But there he was, all dressed up like a proper revolutionary. It wasn’t like Raphael could say much about that, he had tried to emulate that fashion as well, to be less detectable, although admittedly cream and white did not lend themselves easily to such a task, but his was a disguise. He had a feeling Azra’s was not. “Oh, good Lord.”

“What the deuce are you doing, locked up in the Bastille?” Azra asked, looking confused. “Last I checked, you were off in London, blessing people left and right.”

“I’ve been here for a while. Sent to keep key people alive. Well, truth be told I was sent to keep one person alive and in the meantime I kept a few more alive. I was looking for Louis-Charles. And I had found him, too, but they caught me trying to get in.”

“So why don’t you just perform another miracle and go home?” Azra asked. “Better yet, why didn’t you miracle yourself  _ into _ the prison?”

“Gabriel told me that my stunt with saving some people last month meant no miracles this month. Said there would be dire consequences if I did something he deemed unnecessary. I neglected to ask if saving this corporation was necessary, but considering I can get a new one, I doubted it was.”

“Gabriel bossing you around again? Why  _ do _ you take that, Raphael, I thought you outranked him!”

“Not since this assignment.”

Azra shook his head. “Can’t imagine taking orders from my little brother. Not that I have a brother. Well, I suppose you were lucky I was in the area!”

“I suppose I am. Why are you here, Azra? I thought you were opening a bookshop in London.”

“I am, I got peckish and thought that since I got sent a commendation from my lot for outstanding job performance, I wasn’t at risk of getting caught up in this mess and could pop across the channel for some crepes.”

“Outstanding job- so all of this is your demonic work?” Raphael gasped. “Azra, have you looked around?”

“It had nothing to do with me, the humans thought it up themselves! I just took credit, my record needed a little boosting.”

He snapped his fingers and the shackles fell from Raphael’s wrists. 

“I suppose I should say thank you,” Raphael said, rubbing his wrists where the cold iron cuffs had been wearing at his skin. There was a slight blossom of blood in one particular scrape, but he didn’t bother with any real healing on it, just licked his thumb and drew it across the wound, wiping away most of the blood.

“ _ Don’t _ say that. If my lot find out I’ve rescued an angel, I’ll get a hell of a lot worse than an empty threat from Gabriel.”

Raphael supposed that was true. “Well, how about I buy you lunch. The crepes you wanted.”

“I suppose that could do, but you won’t make it anywhere in those clothes. You’ve clearly been locked up somewhere, and you look barely better than an aristocrat.”

“And what do you propose I do instead?”

“Swap clothes with that guy,” Azra said simply, pointing at the executioner. 

“But- when you start time again, they’ll kill him!”

“He was going to kill you! Come on, Angel, I would like those crepes, and you know I can’t perform miracles on you, so you’ve got to do it.”

Raphael sighed and snapped his fingers, immediately took off the stupid hat and removed his sunglasses from the executioner’s face, replacing them over his eyes. “Fine. Let’s go get crepes.”

_ Present Day _

Azra had yet to figure out where to go, and he was watching something stupid in a nearby theatre to distract himself from the fact that if he didn’t find somewhere to go, he was doomed. Hell was going to figure out that Warlock was not the Antichrist and that he had lied.

“Azra!”

He nearly jumped out of his seat as one of the rabbits on the screen popped its head off, and a badly animated Hastur was now on the screen, apparently wearing the rabbit as a costume. “What the Heaven is going on, Azra? What have you done?” 

“Hastur! I’m afraid I’m not sure that I’m following you, what is the problem?” Azra asked, feigning innocence.

“The boy! The boy called Warlock! We took him to the fields of Megido, the dog is not with him, he knows nothing of the Great War, he is not our Master’s son, he said that I-” Hastur seemed to hesitate.

“That you what, Hastur?”   
“That I smelled of poo.” 

Azra bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. “You could see his point, surely.”

“You’re dead meat, Azra, you’re bloody history! You stay where you are, we’re coming to collect you!” Hastur suddenly had claws, and ripped open another rabbit’s throat.

Azra didn’t stick around to find out what happened next. He slid out of his seat and made for the exit of the theatre. 

Like Heaven was he going to stick around and find out what Hastur had in mind for him. He ran off to find Raphael. Maybe now he could convince the angel that they needed to leave.

He finally spotted Raphael’s blue bentley driving down the road near the bookshop. 

So maybe the angel was looking for him, too. He tapped on the driver’s window.

Raphael looked over at him, and stopped. Azra quickly ran over to the passenger’s side and climbed in. 

“What are you doing?”

“Angel, I’m sorry. I apologize. Work with me here, I’m apologizing!” He said, settling into the seat.

“You’re in my car, I don’t have much of a choice in the matter unless I want to push you into oncoming traffic,” Raphael pointed out, reaching over and putting the car in park in the middle of the street. She turned to face him. “What do you want?”

“Look, set course for Alpha Centuri.”

“Why?” Raphael demanded. 

“The forces of Hell have figured out that it was my fault. But we can run off together! Into the stars! Nobody would even notice us up there!”

“Azra, you’re being ridiculous. Look, I was headed to the bookshop to use your circle to try and talk to the right people and get this all sorted out.”

“And who are your right people? Gabriel? When are you going to figure out that your brother isn’t interested in what is best for you or the Earth?” Azra demanded.

“I know, Azra, that’s why I’m going higher up than Gabriel, or even the Metatron. To the right people.”

“There are no right people! There’s only us, and God, moving in mysterious ways and refusing to speak with any of us!”

“You really are daft, aren’t you? I’m going to try and reach the Almighty, Azra.” 

The demon couldn’t help the disgust and disbelief that flashed across his face. “That won’t happen! You’re so brilliant, Raphael, how could you be so stupid?”

Hurt etched itself across the angel’s features. “I forgive you.”

“Ugh. Fine. If you’re using my bookshop for whatever your plan is, I’m using your apartment. I need to grab the Holy Water, and then I’ll be out of your hair and won’t even think about you.”

He jumped out of Raphael’s car and ran for the bookshop before the angel could say anything else. It was pointless to try and convince her, she was so convinced that there was a right side, that Heaven was going to save everything. 

Azra knew it wasn’t. 

J-C: Oh, the song of the blade is the joy of the people! Magnificent, no? Now, let's have a look at your neck.

R: Sir, this is a huge mistake!

J-C: It's a mistake that you were caught trying to free the son of the king from his prison? … It's terrible, isn't it?

R: Yes! Cutting off that poor woman's head!

J-C: It's Pierre. He always lets go of the rope too soon! You're lucky that it's me, Jean-Claude, who will separate your treacherous head from your shoulders

R: Really, this is a mistake. I'm not-

J-C: It's unfortunate that no one else came before you to be executed. You are the nine-hundred and ninety-ninth aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand. Now-

R: Please, no! It would really be unfortunate if you discorporate me, I've had this body since Eden! It would be a real nightmare! … They're animals!


	13. Nicotine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Nicotine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkBxcmxWKAA)

_ I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you,  _

_ So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do, _

_ Yeah you're worse than nicotine _

_ St. J _ _ ames’ Park, London, 1862 _

“Listen, I’ve been thinking. About if it were to all go wrong. The two of us have a lot in common,” Azra began, turning to look at the angel. 

Raphael was busy pulling corn pellets out of her sleeve to throw at the ducks, which were clearly not there naturally. She could feel one of the red curls she  _ knew _ she had pinned into place falling down the back of her neck, fought the urge to reach behind her and fight with it again. It would likely only stay up for a few minutes, and she didn’t really intend to be awake for long enough for it to matter. She smoothed the front of her gown, the pleat of her skirt had yet again gotten stuck on something behind her. She missed the dresses from before she had decided to take her nap, they got caught on much less. “I don’t know about that, Azra. You’re a demon, I’m an archangel. Can’t get much more different than that.”

“Oh, come now, you know that’s not true. We aren’t that different. Listen, I need a favour.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow above the top of her sunglasses. “What kind of favour could you want from me? We already have the arrangement!” 

“This is something else,” Azra admitted. “For if everything goes… wrong.”

“What do you think is going to go all pear-shaped, Azra?” 

“I wrote it down. Walls have ears. Or, rather, trees have ears. Ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears?”

“What is it, Azra?”

Azra passed her a piece of paper. Raphael took it in her gloved hand, read it over. 

In Azra’s messily scrawl was scribbled  _ holy water. _

Raphael crumpled the note in her hand. “Out of the question.”

“Why not?”

“I am not going to bring you a suicide pill!” Raphael cried, seeming offended. “Why would you expect me to bring you the one thing that could destroy you? If I asked you for your infernal fire, would you give it to me?”

All of the sudden, there was a rather warm vial in her hand. Raphael very nearly dropped it, not expecting it to be given over so easily. “I expected you to want a bargain, to want the same reassurance I want. It’ll be a trade. Holy Water for Hellfire.”

“Why would you give this to me?” Raphael demanded. Stared down at the crackling flame contained within the thin glass walls of the vial.

“I trust you. And I have a feeling that if I've gotten myself to a point where I need assurance, so have you."

Raphael swallowed a lump in her throat. Held the vial in her hand. “I- I can’t, Azra. If they were to find out that I made Holy Water and gave it to the enemy… they can’t find out that we’ve been fraternizing.”

She held the vial back out to Azra, expecting him to take it back. It was uncomfortably hot, as though if she wasn’t careful it would commence burning her through the glass.

He didn’t move to take it. “Fraternizing?” He echoed, sounding angry with her quite suddenly.

“Or whatever you wish to call this, Azra, Heaven cannot find out about it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t give you any Holy Water. Gabriel would notice if I made any and demand to know what it’s for, and we’re not exactly battling hordes of demons or… what is it humans think die to holy water? Vampires? I’m a little out of touch but I think your letter mentioned vampires.”

Azra didn’t answer the question. “I have plenty of other people to fraternize with, Raphael. If you won’t give me what I want, I’ll go somewhere else.”

The comment stung a little bit. “Fine! Then take you fire back, and go find someone else to beg for a suicide pill from! I’m sure Michael or Gabriel would be much more receptive than me! Hell, maybe I’ll call them myself!” 

“Keep the fire. Apparently I trust you a lot more than you trust me.” Azra spun around and walked away, leaving Raphael to stare after him in confusion.

What could Azra possibly want with Holy Water? With only a little amount, he could create a rebellion in Hell, is that what he wanted? 

And there was the matter of  _ I’ll go somewhere else. _ Were that only friends when Azra needed something from her?

She supposed that she might never know, and honestly, was content with that. Azra’s quips had done a fair bit more than sting. 

“Why did I wake up for this?” She muttered to herself, picking up the skirt of her dress and walking back towards her home. “Such a long, well-deserved sleep and I bothered to wake up for this.”

She stared down at the vial in her hand. The vial Azra had kept with him since Egypt, since she had first discorporated him.

The vial Hell had sent him back with to use to destroy her if she tried to discorporate him again.

And now she had it in her possession. 

She wondered what she was supposed to do with it. She was an angel, she couldn't destroy it, and it was far too dangerous for her to keep lying around just anywhere. If the fire ever escaped the vial, it had the potential to completely destroy her.

She had almost preferred when such a threat had been outside of her hands.

Raphael closed both hands around the vial of crackling fire for a few seconds, before slipping it into her coin purse. 

She would figure out what to do with it when she got home, and after she'd had a nice glass of wine to take her mind off of Azra's harsh words.

_ London, 1941 _

Azra had chosen this 'church' specifically. 

For the reasons that it was  _ technically  _ a church, but it's recent uses had more than scrubbed away its pesky consecration that made it so hard for him to enter. In fact, it had become the den of quite the opposite.

But his acquaintances didn't know that. It was a place that such pretend purists of religion would want to meet. 

Azra wondered what Raphael thought of what was going on. The last he had heard, the angel was venturing to America in 1910, but it was unclear whether he had ever made it, or where he was now. He'd been on some big unsinkable ship, but all the news about that ship had been pretty terrible so it was likely the angel had been forced to wait for new corporation. 

"Mister Harmony, Mister Glozier."

"Mister Fell, you are late. But not to worry," Mister Glozier declared. 

"You have brought the books for the Führer?" 

"Indeed. Books of prophecy, all first editions, as requested. Mother Shipton, Robert Nixon, Ottwell Binns," Azra said, holding the bag out in front of him.

"What about the other books? The führer was most insistent that he wanted it. It has the prophecies that are true. With the true prophecies, the war… it's as good as won."

Azra nodded. "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. No luck. I'm afraid that is the holy grail of prophetic books." 

"We want the holy grail, Mister Fell."

The demon sighed, plucked at his soft leather coat. "The unsold copies of Agnes Nutter's book were destroyed, and that is to say all of them. There are no copies left. However, I found a prophecy for 1962 in the publisher's log. It read,  _ do not buy betamax." _

"Who is Peter Max?" 

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

Mister Glozier nodded. "I will pass it along to the führer. These books will be in Berlin by morning."

"You have been very helpful, Mister Fell… such a pity you must be eliminated. Ah well, just another death in the Blitz." 

Mister Harmony drew a gun. Azra frowned. 

"That's not very sporting."

"You do not seem worried," Harmony remarked, seeming puzzled.

"He's not worried."

A gun cocked behind Azra, and a young woman stepped out from the pews. 

"Who is that?" Mister Glozier asked. 

"That, my double-dealing nazi acquaintances, is why none of those books will be making it to Berlin! Allow me to introduce Captain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence!" Azra grinned. 

"Thank you for the introduction," Rose said cordially.

"Our side knew all about you two. She's the one who recruited me to work for you! Now, she's going to tell you that the British have this place surrounded and you have been… oh, the Americans have such a lovely expression for it, played for suckers!" 

Rose bit her lip. "About that."

"Well, come on in, round them up!" Azra shouted. 

No one stirred. "Rose? Where are your people?" 

Mister Harmony broke a grin. "We are all here."

Mister Glozier took over. "Allow me to introduce to you Fraüleine Greta Kleinschmidt. She works with us."

Rose's gun turned on Azra. The demon gasped. 

"Du hast den Scheißbuchhändler reingelegt! Gut gemacht, Liebling!" 

"Es war nicht schwer, Liebling. er ist sehr leichtgläubig."

"Now, where were we…" Mister Harmony mused, a smile on his face. 

"Ah yes. Killing you." 

Greta's finger tightened on the trigger. 

"But you can't kill me, there'll be paperwork!" 

"Did you really have to find the only desecrated ground I know of in London, Azra!" 

Someone else was in the church. Azra whirled around to see a figure in white and pale pink walking, but perhaps walking wasn't the right word for it, down the aisle of the church. 

It took Azra a moment to recognize him, it was one of the first times in a long time this particular person had kept his hair short, and garb had changed since the 19th century. "Raphael?" He gasped. 

"Is this what pins and needles feel like for humans? Honestly, it's so cold in here it's burning my feet, worse than that bloody iceberg I had to sit on for three hours waiting for Gabriel. Couldn't you have chosen a better place if you were going to need rescuing? Besides, I'm not going by that name lately. Filled out my papers while I was drunk." 

He continued making his way down the aisle, barely leaving his feet on the ground for more than a second.

Azra groaned, placed his face in his hands. "So what  _ is  _ your name right now?" 

"Mister Anthony J. Crowley. Your reputation precedes you," Mister Harmony remarked.

Despite the fact that this was a serious situation, Azra couldn't help but laugh. "The snake? You named yourself after the snake? Oh, that is good,  _ Crowley." _

"Shut up, Mister  _ Fell _ . What was I supposed to be? Mister Angel? Mister Didn't?" 

Azra didn't have much to say about that. "Anthony is nice, can't figure out why you didn't just use Raphael though."

"Told you, I was drunk. Now I'm stuck with it."

"The famous Mister Crowley. Such a pity you must both die." 

Raphael made a face. "Yeah, about that. See, this is a desecrated church with a bunch of Nazis in it, so it was pretty easy to convince Gabriel to let me wreck it, so in about a minute, a bomb is going to fall right here. If you run, very very fast, you might not die. You won't enjoy dying, and I suspect Mister Fell can guarantee you definitely won't enjoy whatever comes after." 

Azra raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to preach that all humans are forgivable and could wind up in your domain?" 

"Oh, please, Azra, they're bloody Nazis they're going to Hell. That's a bloody given and I don't have to pretend otherwise."

"The bombs tonight will be falling on the East End. Not here." 

Raphael grinned his signature snake-tooth grin. "Indeed. It would almost take a miracle to get them to change their target." 

No one moved. 

"You're all wasting your valuable running away time! And, if a bomb  _ does  _ land here, it might take a… demonic intervention so that Heaven doesn't notice me saving people in the very spot I convinced them to condemn?" 

"Demonic intervention," Azra repeated.

"Kill them, they are very irritating," Mister Harmony said. 

Raphael just pointed above his head as a bomb whistled down from the sky and landed on the church. 

And fire enveloped them all. Azra barely remembered to throw up a ward so that they wouldn't be discorporated as well. 

After a few minutes, the smoke started to clear. Raphael looked down at his feet. "That's better. Can't be consecrated or desecrated when it's destroyed."

"What are you doing here?" 

"Keeping you from being embarrassed! I  _ tried  _ to enlist and go help on the frontlines, but Gabriel wasn't having it-" 

Azra snorted. " _ You  _ were going to enlist in the military?" 

"Why do you think I cut my hair? I figured I could do a lot of good if I was on the frontlines, but Gabriel said I couldn't so I got to work taking down the multitudes of nasty little nazi spy rings in London. Speaking of, shouldn't you be working  _ with  _ them?" 

Azra took a step back. "Oh, how dare you! Of course I'm not going to help them! They're a bunch of half-witted nazi spies blackmailing and murdering people! There's no finesse to it." 

"The lack of finesse is what turns you off." 

"Exactly!" Azra agreed. "Now, I should- the books. Oh, Satan, I forgot about the books! They'll all be-"

Raphael grabbed a leather bag off the ground. "If Heaven asks, I saved some sacred texts." 

He held the bag out to Azra. 

Azra took it, staring at him. "You saved them for me?"

"Shut up. Do you need a ride home?" 

"Why are you offering me a ride home?" 

Raphael plucked a pair of keys from his pocket, spun them on his finger. "Because I have a ride, and you might need one."

_ Soho, London, 1967 _

Satisfied that the caper was well set up, and the odd lance-corporal was sufficiently assured that Azra would call on him if he had need, he turned to leave. 

There was a figure leaning against a dark blue Bentley, smoking something that didn't smell like a cigarette, that hadn't been there before. 

"You look terrible. I know the flower children are all about your thing, but really, Raphael, have a little class." 

Raphael glared at him from over her pink sunglasses. "You know, I came here to help you, and immediately starting by insulting me is not a good way to ensure that I do." 

She snuffed the not-cigarette on the bottom of her shoe and stuck in her pocket, then frowned. "Sorry, did you want a drag?"

"No. Are you really just tangled up with the free love and drugs? What are you here to help me with? And really, you look like you've been wearing those for the last week." 

"Because I have. And no, I'm not. I'm around helping protest the Vietnam war. Drugs and free love come with the territory. Now come on, get in the car," she climbed back in the driver's seat, long, loose, colourful skirt swishing around her ankles. 

She had sandals and a loose blouse on, and a vest. Her hair was long again, with a sash tied around her forehead. 

Compared to the angel's black and plum attire, she stood out like a neon sign. 

"Okay, what are you here for, Raphael," Azra asked, climbing in the passenger's seat. 

"I've been around Soho recently. I heard about your caper." 

"So?"

"Azra it's too dangerous! Holy Water won't just kill your body, it'll destroy you!" 

"You told me what you thought. One-hundred and five years ago." 

"And you didn't change my mind. But I won't have you risking your life, so… I found a reason to make some."

She pulled a pink thermos out from beside her seat, handed it to him.

"Is this the real thing?" 

"The Holiest. Don't go unscrewing the cap." 

"Should I say thank you?" 

"No. Now, I have to ditch this thing before I meet up with the people I'm around lately. I'm for the cause, but I'm keeping this car." 

"You know, you are a tiny bit of a rebellious bastard, Raphael."

Something changed in the angel's face. She looked hurt for a moment, and then her expression went cold. "Well, then you need to get out." 

"What, you're not going to offer me a ride?"

"No."

Baffled, Azra stepped out of the car, with only a pink thermos in his hand to prove that the odd conversation had really happened. 


	14. Better Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Better Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wm4CrOfbHMI)

Raphael was pacing outside the bookshop, waiting for Azra to have collected what he needed and left, when something pushed him up against the wall.

It took him a moment to recognize the faces before him, one smattered with gold, one with glinting teeth. "Uriel? Sandalphon? What the Heaven are you doing here aren't you meant to be preparing?" He demanded, narrowing his eyes behind his pink glasses.

"We've just been learning some disturbing things about you, Raphael. Went back through the Earth observation files. Now, Michael won't hear it and Gabriel is busy, but you've been being a bit of a…" Uriel smiled, a twisted kind of a smile, "fallen angel, haven't you?" 

Raphael bristled. "I have not!" 

"Consorting with the enemy." 

Raphael glared at his sister. "I haven't been consorting, I've been spying. Trying to stop this since the beginning because I am the only one who seems to see that a war isn't necessary!" 

Sandalphon scoffed. "You should remember how we treat traitors in wartime." He said, voice low and foreboding. He didn't seem to be listening to what Raphael was saying.

"I am not a traitor! Now let me be, I have work to be doing, brother!" Raphael snarled, wiping around to glare at Sandalphon.

"It's time for you to choose," Uriel said simply, cocking an eyebrow. "Choose sides."

"Choosing sides is for humans. We're here to guide them, not to make choices of our own, those were made long ago. In the _Great Plan_. Now let me be, sist-"

The wind was knocked out of him when Sandalphon's fist struck his stomach. 

It shouldn't have been a bad injury, but this was an angel, he could be significantly worse than a typical scrap on the street. Raphael coughed, gasped for breath, blood on his lips. 

Uriel grabbed the lapels of his white coat, shoved him against the wall. "Gabriel and Michael might be too blind to see it, but you've been down here too long."

"You're not in charge of my position," Sandalphon lifted his hand again and Raphael flinched, falling silent. 

"That's what I thought." 

"I'm going to take this up with a higher authority. There is nothing giving you the right to come and harass me. I’ve done what I was ordered to, little sister.”

"You think upstairs will take your calls? You're _ridiculous."_

She looked up at the sky. "Oh look. It's starting." 

And with that, the angels were gone. 

Raphael crumpled to the ground, wiped the blood off his lips. It stained the sleeve of his coat brilliant red. He had never liked such a harsh colour. "You- you-" he glared up at the sky, trying to summon the right words.

They were his siblings. What could he really say about them? He fell silent again, picked himself up and waited for Azra to leave the shop before stealing away inside. 

It was easier to do this from the shop. Mostly because Gabriel wouldn't know it was him calling if the signal came from a demon's typical location. 

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the vial Azra had given him over a hundred years ago, placed it on a table. Pulled the rug out of the way of Azra's circle. 

The fire was with him just in case this went wrong. 

Carefully, he set about finding and lighting the candles, around the edge of the circle, then stopped by the table again. 

Folded his hands, and prayed. 

"Hello? I need to go all the way to the top."

"Of course you do, Raphael."

The angel almost kicked over a candle the moment he heard the voice. His eyes narrowed into slits, gold taking over the sclera. "The Metatron. Of course it's you." He curled his lip.

"What, you didn't think you would get through to the Almighty, did you? After what you did?" 

Raphael didn't answer. 

"You did! How foolish. What are you calling about, Raphael. Perhaps I can help." The Metatron said. “After all, Gabriel and I are charged with your supervision.”

The tone of voice didn't suggest much help.

Raphael decided to make his plea anyways. Clearly he wasn't getting any higher than the Metatron. "Tell Uriel and Sandalphon that, maybe they’ll stop making my moves their concern. And there doesn't have to be a war." 

The Metatron was silent for a time. "I was beginning to think that maybe you had learned the lesson sending you here was meant to instill. Clearly, I was wrong." 

"Well then tell me why there has to be a war!" 

"The Almighty doesn't owe you an explanation, Raphael." 

"Well I would sure like one, so maybe I should have read Lucifer's damned book for all the good refusing ever did me! I've done your bidding for the last six thousand years and I want answers!"

The Metatron frowned. "You seem to believe that loyalty incurs a rewards, Raphael. I'm surprised you're still here talking to me at all, with that attitude.”

“Loyalty to the Almighty is not rewarded. But the Almighty hasn’t spoken to us in thousands of years, so I’ve been being loyal to _you._ I’m well within my rights to demand an explanation from you,” Raphael snapped. 

The Metatron looked taken aback. “You would do well to remember what the cost of your words is. For yourself _and_ Gabriel.”

“You can’t do anything further to me without the Almighty’s approval,” Raphael retorted, smirking. “And seeing as how you’re taking all Her calls, it seems like no one is getting to her lately. Gabriel and I seem to be pretty safe, for now. You don’t have time to alert her and get her approval before the End is upon us. Besides, do you really want two more foes for the war you’re so determined to have?”

“How can you be sure that the Almighty didn’t continue to leave your fate in my hands?” The Metatron asked. “It’s what she did last time. You should hardly need reminding of that.”  
“No, I shouldn’t. It does tend to look me in the mirror, doesn’t it. But I have spoken to someone who has heard from God Herself, and you weren’t even meant to do that. So I’m willing to wager you can’t complete the Almighty’s threat without Her approval.”

“Willing to bet on Gabriel’s fate, too? The consequences this time are more than a slap on the wrist and some disfigurement, Raphael. This time, you go down. And Gabriel goes with you.” 

That got the angel to stop. "Wait-"

"I'll give you a chance. _Another_ chance. The portal stays open, you prepare to come back, you go to war without breathing a word of this again, and we pretend this exchange never happened. For Gabriel's sake." 

Raphael didn't dare to answer. 

"I see you've understood. Do not dawdle. Wait. What is that behind you.”

"Shit! It’s nothing,” Raphael hissed, snatching the vial of fire off the table before the Metatron could get a good look at it, but his erratic behaviour only proved what it was. 

“You’ve managed to get ahold of _Hellfire?_ I don’t think my job with the Almighty is going to be as hard as you think, you have _Hellfire!_ You’d best report back to active duty and _pray_ the Almighty is in a good mood at the end of the war, lest she cast you into nothing to die with the rest of the traitors.”

With that, the Metatron was gone.

“Shit! Shit shit shit!” Raphael dropped the vial back on the table, staring at it in disgust for a moment. 

He didn’t have a choice. He had to report back. The Metatron was right, it was his only chance. He needed to go prepare this body for transport back to Heaven. There would be Hell to pay if he showed up without his issued corporation.

He spun around, carelessly, his hand caught something glass and flung it from the table as he moved. He only had seconds to realize what it was before fire erupted where it landed. 

It was the infernal fire. And it was now standing between him and the exit. 

Faster than he would have expected, the fire took to the books, jumping from shelf to shelf. It caught the ceiling in it's blaze and pushed Raphael further and further back, desperate not to be touched by the blaze.

The fire quickly encircled him. He couldn't go out by either exit, he was running out of options. Braving it and running through the fire wouldn't do.

He only had one choice. 

"Oh, _fuck."_

He stepped into the portal.

There was a Holy light, a soft noise, and a pop.

And then there was just the fire.

_Heaven_

“Raphael! I thought I heard one of your healers say your weren’t to get out of bed for another week!” Michael scolded, walking down the aisle between beds to get to her sibling. 

Raphael was leaning _hard_ on their staff, both hands clutched around it like a lifeline. Their knuckles were white around the gold inlaid wood. It looked like if they leaned on it much harder, it might snap under them. “I’m in charge of all those people, so what they say about me isn’t particularly important. I was going to find Aziraphale.” 

“You hardly have to find him, he’s only left the infirmary because the Metatron themselves ordered him to go get something done. He’s barely left your side,” Michael said, ushering the angel back to their bed. “Honestly, you shouldn’t be up yet. We weren’t sure you were ever going to wake up again, you scared us!” she cried, making them sit down again. 

"Trust me, I felt like I was going to die, too," Raphael promised. Let their voice trail off. Michael sat down next to them, they leaned their head on her shoulder. 

She sighed, fingers reaching up to comb through their red hair. Some spots were still matted with blood, they hadn't gotten the chance to clean it out. 

"How are you, Michael?" Raphael asked, brow furrowing. 

Michael didn't answer immediately. "I've got you guys to look after now that God has stopped talking to us. I'll be fine. Lots to keep me busy."

"He was the only one who had been here as long as you had."

Michael smiled sadly. "Sometimes those are the ones you know you'll lose. But it's hard. He and I… we grew up together, before we turned around and raised the rest of you with Mother. You don't seem surprised that he's gone." 

Raphael bit their lip. 

Lucifer wasn't here to punish Aziraphale if they spoke, not anymore. "He stole a copy of the Great Plan, like you saw. He tried to get me to read it." 

"What?" 

"He called me over one day, said he had something to show me. He had the plan, thought I would be interested in reading it, given that I always asked about it. I told him I wanted no part of it."

"Why didn't you tell us, Raphael?" Michael asked, and for a second the angel wondered if their sister was angry not to have had the warning they had gotten. "You shouldn't have had to carry that knowledge by yourself," she continued, putting Raphael's fears to rest. 

"He told me if I told anyone he would see that Aziraphale saw the consequences of crossing him. I couldn't risk it. I wanted to tell you."

"And you didn't read it."

"Not a word. I can't say it wasn't tempting, but someday, I'll get my answers, and that's good enough for me." 

Even though more and more questions were piling up in their head.

More questions that needed urgent answers.

Even more now that the war was over and both he and Aziraphale were fine. 

What could Lucifer have meant would go wrong? 

Michael smiled, squeezed their shoulder. "You're better than he thought. Things will work out in the end."

She looked up. "Oh, your principality is coming back for you, I'll get out of your hair." 

She kissed his forehead and stood. 

"Michael?" 

"Yes Raphael?"

"Thank you." 

She looked puzzled. "For what?" 

"Everything. This. Your help during the war. For not making me fight. For-" 

They looked over at Aziraphale. "I thought you wouldn't approve."

"You think so little of me, Raphael," Michael said teasingly. "You're very welcome."

She walked off as Aziraphale made it back to their bed. 

"You look better today," he remarked, sitting down next to the Archangel. 

"I'm not convinced I feel better thought. Still pretty sure I couldn't miracle a dandelion puff if God herself asked me to." 

"Well, lucky for you, I don't think the Almighty is desperate for a dandelion puff that comes exclusively from you. Honestly, she probably wishes she could have less dandelion puffs, they grow _everywhere._ "

Raphael laughed. "That's exactly what I wanted them to do!" 

"They do remind me of someone I love very much, after all. Why shouldn't I want them everywhere?" Picked at a bit of crusted blood under their fingernails, almost shyly, even though they had told Aziraphale this the day they had made them. 

"I'm sure Gabriel loves being compared to that yellow flower," Aziraphale replied, clearly teasing. Raphael fell back as though wounded anyways. 

_"Gabriel?_ I don't need a reminder of my little brother, he never goes away!" 

"Oh?" The principality said, blue eyes sparkling. "Well then who ever could those flowers remind you of? Could it be the Metatron?" 

Raphael made a gagging noise. "I have as much love for the Metatron as I _have_ to." 

"Well, I haven't got a clue who these things could remind you of, then," Aziraphale said, miracling one of the flowers into existence and tucking it behind their ear. 

"You're a right bastard sometimes, 'Zira." 

"You wound me, you really do!" Aziraphale laughed, flopped down beside the angel. 

"Who else could they be?" Raphael asked, running a hand along Aziraphale's cheek. "Strong and soft and bright like the sun…"

Aziraphale smiled. "I don't know, I think I know someone, but they made the flowers in the first place."

"I'm hardly soft, Michael says I'm all skin and bones and always was." They pinched the skin of their forearm to illustrate.

"I was under the impression that was by personal choice." 

"I've gotta keep up the aesthetic, don't I? The whole snake motif and everything. Besides, you can be soft for the both of us." 

To prove their point, Raphael lifted themselves up just a little bit and flopped down on Aziraphale's chest. "See? Perfect." 

Aziraphale laughed. "You should hardly be squirming so much, you still need your rest." 

"Squirming is kind of what I do," Raphael said, putting too much of an h on the word what. "I am a snake, after all." 

For a moment, there was a white and gold snake laying on Aziraphale's chest. Their tongue flicked out and tickled his nose. 

And then they were back to human-shaped, looking a little worn out. "I shouldn't have done that." 

Aziraphale just smiled at them.


	15. Tear in my Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tear In My Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzm-6Fc9j5g)

_Sometimes you gotta bleed to know_   
_That you're alive and have a soul_   
_But it takes someone to come around_   
_To show you how_

Azra was really not sure why Raphael had insisted on doing whatever he was doing in the bookshop, but setting up at the angel’s gave Azra a little more time, just because Hastur wouldn’t expect him there.

He rushed into the apartment, knocked over at least three of the damned flowerpots Raphael refused to keep anywhere orderly, and made for the back room. 

He knew the back room, it was where Raphael met with his siblings and the only room in the apartment that was ever clean. He didn’t know why the archangel appeared to like living in clutter, but he did. Various items were sprawled across every other flat surface. 

Gingerly, he pulled on the rubber gloves he had brought for himself and emptied the pink thermos full of Holy Water into a red bucket, careful not to let a drop splash up at him. 

Walked over to the door, left it ajar and perched the bucket on the top of the door. 

He let it go and it stayed there, so he let out a sigh of relief.

Opted not to remove his gloves.

After a second, he spotted the pink plant mister that Raphael used to terrify his plants. 

He grabbed it from where it sat beside a fern that had a spot on its leaf, and brought it to the table. 

Placed it in front of him. 

"Azra! We know you're in there!" Hastur shouted, pressing Raphael's door buzzer. 

"We only want a little word!" Ligur added. 

Azra didn't answer. He knew they would come in anyways, but he didn't have to encourage them. 

They crept through the house. "There's no sense hiding, Azra," Ligur scolded, pushing open the door.

The bucket fell.

Ligur shrieked as the Holy Water fell on his head, as it immediately began melting him, bucket fusing to his head. 

Soon, there was nothing left but a puddle and Hastur screaming behind it. 

"Hello," Azra said with a smile. 

"That's- that's Holy Water!" Hastur cried. "I can't believe- you- Holy Water! Not even a demon would- he hadn't done nothing to you!" 

"Not yet he hadn't." 

Azra grabbed the plant mister off the desk. "Now. Let's see what it does to you." 

Terror flickered on Hastur’s face as he stared at the bottle in Azra’s hand, but he swallowed it down. The demon glared at him. "You don't frighten me,” he claimed.

"This is a plant mister. It can shoot a fine spray of mist across the room. It's full of Holy Water.” Azra warned, fingers tightening on the trigger. 

"You're bluffing."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Do you feel lucky?" Azra hissed. 

Hastur contemplated him. "Yes."

Before the demon could do anything, Azra squeezed the trigger.

The water struck Hastur in the chest. 

And it started bubbling, melting down to the ground. Azra shrieked and dropped the mister. "Are you kidding me Raphael?" He gasped, staring down at the suddenly more offensive pink bottle.

It didn't do anything. Azra kicked it away from himself.

Hastur wailed as he was melted away, Azra stood in the corner of the room and waited for the carnage to end. 

Then he carefully picked his way around the two puddles, and walked out the door of Raphael's apartment, stripping off his rubber gloves as he went. 

He would make his way back to the bookshop. Raphael would likely have found out that his idea was shit, and they could make for Tadfield. Maybe they could still stop the apocalypse. 

He just needed to hurry and get to the bookshop. 

By the time he was close enough to see it, he had reason to run. 

The bookshop was _burning._

"Are you the owner of this establishment?" A fireman called as he raced to the door. 

"Yes!"

"You can't go in there!" 

Azra gave him a funny look, snapped the door open and ran in. Clearly he could. 

"Raphael!" He shouted, scanning over the tons of burning wreckage. 

He could see his first edition copy of _Macbeth_ burning on the floor, pages curling up and turning black as the fire ravaged them. There were puddles of melted wax around his summoning circle, probably the source of the fire. "Raphael where are you I can't find you!" He shouted, pushing aside a pile of burning books and ash to see past it. 

He expected the fire to hurt his hands, to blister his skin and pucker his fingers. 

Instead, it felt invigorating. 

He froze.

Normal fire would wound him. 

Shaking, he stuck his hand into the flames. He prayed that his fingers would burn, that blisters would form and that that it would _hurt._

The flames licked playfully at his fingers, circling around his hand. 

_Infernal Fire._

The bookshop was burning with Infernal Fire, the blasted Infernal Fire he had given Raphael back in the nineteenth century, and Raphael was nowhere to be found. 

"No, no no no this can't be happening… Raphael!" 

A jet of water broke through a window, struck him in the chest and knocked him across the floor, left sprawling on his back. 

He wound up beside a bit of shattered glass. 

It was the vial the Infernal Fire had been contained within. 

"For God's- for Satan's- for somebody's sake Raphael you can't be gone…" he breathed, staring down at the vial, but what else could have happened? He couldn't sense Raphael anywhere around. 

"He's gone…" he whispered, felt something crack in his chest. "Something killed my best friend!" All of the sudden he was screaming, yelling at the Earth and Heavens and burning pits of Hell. "Bastards! All of you!" 

They had _taken_ Raphael away from him, and he couldn't get the angel back. He was gone and there was nothing Azra could do but scream and scream and scream at the sky, scream until the smoke worked his voice hoarse and he could scream no longer. 

Discorporation would have been bad enough. 

But now there was _no_ way Raphael would come back. 

He was gone. Destroyed. Lost to Azra and everyone else for the rest of eternity, however long that was.

Tears burned his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a green-covered book on the ground beside him. 

_The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter._

He picked it up, stood to leave the building, even though he was quite convinced that the world was no longer worth saving. 

Perhaps it would be easier to drink himself to oblivion and let what become of him become of him.

_Heaven_

"Ugh." Raphael scraped his tongue on his teeth, pressed a hand to his head as he took in his surroundings. 

Everything was very white, and very bright. 

Heaven. 

"You! Your whole platoon is waiting for you, Raphael!" Someone shouted. "And you're not in uniform!" 

Raphael looked down at what he _was_ wearing. 

For some stupid reason, Heaven had to take all his colour away, and he was left with his normal white jacket and jeans, and snakeskin shoes, and a cream shirt. 

And no sunglasses. 

In the middle of wherever in Heaven he was.

Without something to hide what he had been assigned to Earth to cover up.

He groaned. "I don't _have_ a platoon. I have a bunch of healers that can go as they please." 

"The Metatron has assigned you a different duty. You know much more about the ground layout we'll be dealing with, so you've been moved to lead a platoon. Gabriel chose one of your healers to lead the rest of them."

Raphael gave the angel a funny look. Tapped his temple and summoned his staff to his hand. He reached up and stroked the snake's head, Crowley's tongue tickled his hand as he moved to wrap around the angel's arm. "The Archangel, Healer of God has been assigned a different duty than healing," he repeated, tossing the staff from hand to hand. 

"Yes, now get a move on, and get in uniform!" 

The angel thrust a neat stack of military-esque fatigues at him. 

Raphael eyed them. Held a hand out for the angel to give them to him, gave them a skeptical once-over. He missed his normal clothes already. "I think I need to speak to the Metatron about this. I'm not a trained soldier, I'm a healer." 

"The Metatron won't see you. They told me that they wouldn't discuss these orders with you or anyone. Now. According to our records, you were issued with a body." 

Raphael looked down at his hand. 

It waved under his gaze. "Well, I did leave Earth through a bookshop that was burning with Infernal Fire, you can hardly expect that I had time to prepare my corporation to go through the portal." 

The angel gapped at him. "You're late to Armageddon, and you turn up without a body? And what happened to your face?" He tried to get a better look at Raphael's eyes.

Raphael looked away before the angel could get a better look. "I don't believe you hold a rank that gives you the right to criticize me. You seem to have forgotten that even though the Metatron gave you my instructions to give to me, I am an Archangel and will not be spoken to in such a way. And I'm not wearing these." He held the uniform back out to the angel. "I won't believe you if you tell me I'm going to see Michael or Gabriel in them, so I know I don't have to put those on, and honestly, tartan isn't my thing. Not to mention, I never did like kilts."

The angel was getting to look more annoyed by the second. "Well… fine! Get in line already! We need to go!" 

Raphael looked around him. 

There was a globe, spinning beside him. In front, there were angels dressed for war. 

Awaiting his orders. 

He was expected to lead the warriors of Heaven. 

To _be_ a warrior of Heaven.

He wasn't a warrior. In the last war, he had flitted from angel to angel and healed all that needed it. He wasn't a fighter. He never had been, and no one had forced him to bear arms in the Great War, he wouldn't be forced to bear arms now.

"No."

"I'm sorry?" 

Raphael grinned, looking up at the angel, eyes fully gold. "You can tell the Metatron, since they refuse to see me themselves, I have no intentions of fighting in _any_ war." 

He walked over to the globe, ignoring the angel shouting after him, and tapped England on the map. 

His hand turned foggy, swirled towards the globe. "Oh, this is interesting," he remarked, watching his arm go gassy and swirl into the globe.

"What are you going to do on Earth if you have no body, Raphael?" The angel demanded. 

"Not sure. I guess I'll figure it out as I go…" 

He grinned and winked at the drill sergeant angel as he got himself out of Heaven.

He didn't have any intention of returning any time soon.

_Heaven, before Eden_

"What did you just say, Raphael?" 

Raphael turned around to face the Metatron, glared at them. "I said why." 

"What do you mean, why?" The Metatron demanded. "I've told you what you're to get done today. I should think your instructions need no reason." 

"And I've decided they do," Raphael said, picking at her fingernail. "And unless I get one, I don't have any intentions of doing what you just told me to do." 

"It's because of the Great Plan, Raphael." 

"Ugh, do you know how sick I am of hearing about the Great Plan? What is the Great Plan?" Raphael asked, looking bored. 

The Metatron looked about ready to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. "Just go do as you're told!" 

"I don't think I will," Raphael decided. "If you're not going to answer me then I'm going to go find answers elsewhere. We just fought a war against my _brother-"_

"You _know_ you Archangels made up that connection, Raphael, you're no more siblings than the rest of the angels." 

"Shut up, I didn't ask your opinion about my use of the word brother. My brother raged _war_ in Heaven and one third of the angels plummeted out of the _sky_ and down… somewhere, and you expect me to just blindly do what you tell me to? I want answers."

Raphael placed her hands on her hips, raised an eyebrow, daring the Metatron to argue with her logic.

They didn't seem to have an answer. "Fine. Don't do it then. You can answer to the Almighty when your tasks are not complete. It is not as if She has asked anything difficult of you."

Raphael whirled on them. "That's not the point! I am so _sick_ of being assigned tasks when I have no idea why I'm doing it! Doesn't the Almighty realize that this is how she drove Lucifer away? It's because she never tells us anything!" She snapped. 

The Metatron looked wary. "Are you saying you agree with Lucifer?" 

"Don't you twist my words," Raphael seethed, taking a step towards the Metatron. "You know damned well that's not what I mean, I just want to know what the point of all of this is! Build a big pretty garden and fill it with a zoo, make it good for the humans but what is the _point?_ I've made stars and flowers and trees and reptiles and mammals and I helped Gabriel make that incredibly weird mix of the two with the bill, and I have no idea why! And I'm sick of blind obedience." 

Raphael didn't give the Metatron a chance to comment. She spun on her heel and stormed down the hall, feet slapping against the marble floor. 

"Raphael? Where are you going?" Gabriel asked as she stormed past. Her brother doubled back to catch up with her. "Didn't the Metatron assign you to the garden?" 

Raphael laughed. "Yeah, they did. I asked why and they didn't like that, so I'm not going." 

Gabriel stopped. "You're going to disobey a direct order? The Metatron's instructions come straight from Mother!" He cried, purple eyes wide. 

"And until I hear a reason why, I have no intention of following them anymore. Go on, Gabriel, do what you were told, I'm not going to be responsible for getting you into trouble," Raphael said, starting to walk away. 

"Raphael, _please._ Don't do this. Not so soon after Lucifer," Gabriel pleaded, biting at his lip. "Just… just lay low for a little while and I'm sure Mother will start talking to us again and then you can ask her why we have to do these tasks but please just give it a little bit."

Raphael contemplated her brother, begging with her to listen. 

She never had been able to say no to that face. "Fine. I'll do what I was told today, but I was some answers before I keep doing everyone's bidding." 

Gabriel's face split into a grin. He pulled his sister into a hug. "Thank you, Raphael."


	16. (Coffee's for Closers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [(Coffee's For Closers)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8mlzzHfkNI)

_Though change will come_

_Oh, change will come_

_I will never believe in anything again_

_We will never believe again_

_Kick drum beating in my chest again_

_We will never believe again_

_Preach electric to a microphone stand_

The end of the world was fast approaching, and Azra was intent on drinking through it. 

He had driven Raphael’s bentley to the closest bar he could find, parked outside where he was sure to get a ticket, not that it would matter. There was hardly going to be someone to pay it to in a matter of hours. 

And he had walked into the bar, ordered a bottle of the finest scotch, and plunked himself down to start drinking.

And now he had been there through one whole bottle. “Another of the same, please!” He called, holding the bottle up and waving it around.

The bartender walked up with a new bottle, placed it down in front of the demon.

“I never asked to be a demon, you know,” he started, pouring himself another glass. “I was just in the garden, hangin' out, mindin' my own business, waitin' for a friend and…” he trailed off. 

Waved his glass in front of him. "An' I didn't even know it was Lucifer who was talkin'," he continued, taking another sip. "M' friend stood me up, 'nd he had somethin' to say 'bout that, an' it sounded about right so…" 

So he had agreed. Not something he was proud of, but it had seemed logical. The friend he was meeting, he couldn't remember who it had been, had stood him up, done something to that had upset him.

And the next thing he knew, he had been falling. Falling far through the ground, deep into the pits of Hell. A one-million light-year drop into a pool of boiling sulfur.

It had burned, burned his wings, burned his very being. 

And he couldn't _really_ remember why it had happened. He'd been meeting a friend, the friend had done something and then…

Then he had plunged into the depths of Hell. "Never really thought t'was fair," he mumbled, took another sip of his drink. "'m sure ol' Lucifer was makin' a good point." 

_Lucifer? Azra, is that you?_

Azra jumped, banged his knee on the table and nearly knocked over his bottle of scotch. 

That voice was a ghost. There was no way anyone had actually spoken, that person wasn't going to be speaking ever again. He had been completely destroyed, utterly annihilated, burned away to absolute nothingness.

 _Azra?_ The voice repeated, sounding a little let down. _Of course it's not him, Raphael, the bloody world is ending. Now, where am I-_

"Raphael?" Azra said tentatively, still thinking he was imagining the voice, but the presence was right. He could sense the Archangel, even if he couldn't see him. "Are you here?" 

_That's a good question. Not sure. Never done this before. I've made a mess of things, got myself-_

"The bookshop was burning with the Infernal Fire _I_ gave you! How could you do that to me what did you do?" 

_Knocked over the vial when the Metatron got annoying. By accident. I stepped through the portal to get away from the flames, got myself discorporated. Did you wind up leaving Earth?_

"No. Some stuff happened. My best friend died." 

_I'm sorry to hear that. Is the bookshop alright?_

"No the bookshop isn't alright, it burned down! You lit it on fire!" Azra shouted. "Did you really think it would survive?"

_I'm sorry. I should have been more careful._

"It doesn't matter. It's not important. I've got the book that matters."

_There was a book that mattered?_

Although he didn't believe that Raphael could see him, as he couldn't see Raphael, he held up the book. "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. It has all the information in it, I figured it out." 

_You figured it out? Recently?_

"Er… no, I had already figured it out. I didn't tell you. But I'll tell you now. You need to get to the- where are you right now?" He asked, frowning and peering around. He couldn’t see the angel, so he found it hard to believe that Raphael was really there.

There was a pause. _I'm not really anywhere right now, I got discorporated and came back without a body, because Heaven was trying to dispatch me to some platoon. Apparently they wanted me to lead battalions because I know the layout of the Earth. Me! The healer!_

"Well, you need to get to the Tadfield airbase. That's where the End is going to happen," Azra told him, flipping open the book to see the notes he had taken.

_Tadfield airbase? The Antichrist was there?_

"Yes. But we're both going to have to get a bit of a wiggle on."

_What?_

"Tadfield airbase! Armageddon! You should go and find a body, mine will probably explode if you try to use it, so you need to move on!"

_I heard the airbase, it was the wiggle on!_

And after that, he could no longer sense Raphael's presence. 

He groaned. He'd better get a move on, too. If Raphael wasn't dead, then there was no way he could sit around and drink the apocalypse away. 

He grit his teeth and sobered up, slapped some money on the table and ran out, hopping in Raphael's Bentley and making off for Tadfield.

Finding a body was easy. 

Finding a suitable body was much harder. 

The first body he found was that of a television evangelist, who was going on about the Rapture. 

Raphael couldn't help but snort. 

The man froze. "Who was that?"

Well, now he was busted. " _Hello_ ," he began, through the evangelist's mouth. 

The man shrieked. "Demon! Possession!" 

_"Possession, yes. Demon, no. I'm an angel. An Archangel, actually. My name is Raphael, and I've gotta ask, do you really believe in the Rapture?"_ Raphael asked, frowning. 

"The Archangel Raphael?" The evangelist's jaw dropped. "Scripture cannot decide if you exist but- could you be-"

_"Of course I am who I say I am, who else would I be? I'm seriously not a demon! Now, do you really believe the bollocks about the Rapture?"_

"The Rapture is foretold in the First Letter to the Thessalonians, Most Holy Archangel Raphael! All the true believers of Christ will be lifted off the Earth and brought to the kingdom of Heaven, while the world suffers the Tribulation, seven years of famine, war, pestilence and death. But those who have faith in Him-"

_"Don't quote scripture at me, I was there when it was written. For Heaven's sake, it's some of my siblings who spoke with Paul as he wrote his letter to the Thessalonians, but there was never to be a Rapture, simply because there won't be a Tribulation. Or the Second Coming of Christ. Heaven has really done everything they intend to do for the humans, and seeing as how Armageddon is set to start today, I suspect it's a little late for any of that sort of thing."_

He didn't really _have_ to argue with the televangelist, but he was sick of the misleading stories that had run rampant through the beliefs of humans for years. 

_"Not to mention, faith in the Rapture is the least Christian thing you could have! God has never made your lives easy, and she never planned to! She will not spare you sufferance simply because you believed a book that your neighbor didn't. I can't believe you would ever think that would happen. Now, I need to go, but you should really think about changing up what you're preaching about."_

And with that, Raphael got out of that body and moved on. 

The next was a German woman who didn't understand a word Raphael said, which was fitting since he didn't understand her either. He left relatively quickly, finding it more difficult to convince people he wasn't a demon when he didn't speak their language.

The next was a woman posing as a seer. She was easy to access, given how recklessly close to the actual border between spiritual and physical she brought herself to maintain her illusions. 

"Is that you, Ron?" 

That was a London accent. He had made it back to London, finally. _"Ron? No. No Ron here."_

"Well I want to speak to Ron! Can you put me through please?" The woman demanded. 

Raphael gave her a look. _"Absolutely not! I have a bloody apocalypse to stop and you want to talk to the husband who didn't even want to listen to you while you were alive? That's funny. Now get out!"_ Raphael snapped. 

The woman stared at him, eyes wide and insulted. “Of course he wants to see me! I’m his wife!”

 _“Yeah he wants nothing to do with you, so I would advise you get out!”_ Raphael shouted. _“Now! Show’s over! World to save!”_

The woman glared at him, and then stood up to leave. Desperately, the woman who’s body he had stolen spoke up. “Wait, dear, don’t go-”

_“No, you need to go. Get out, we don’t have time for you right now!”_

The humans ran out. 

The woman stood up from the table and raced to a mirror. 

It wasn’t her own image staring back at her, from what Raphael could tell, given that he could see himself reflected in the glass, still dressed in that ridiculously plain gettup Heaven had forced him into. 

He gave a little smile, a little wave. The woman jumped back in shock. _“Hello, Miss. I’ve just put us both in a bit of a sticky situation._

“Who are you?” The woman demanded. 

_“The Archangel Raphael. Don’t worry, this isn’t a demonic possession or anything like that. I just need a ride to the Tadfield Airbase. Armageddon is about to begin, and I’m supposed to help stop it, somehow.”_

“And you’ll…”

_“I’ll leave you in peace the second I get the chance to do so. I don’t like this anymore than you do. But for now, I have a feeling we’re both going to have to be very flexible.”_

“Get your hands off her, you- where is he?” 

_“Sergeant Shadwell?”_ Raphael blinked in surprise as the witchfinder burst out of a closed door. 

“Where’s who?” The woman asked innocently. 

“Some… some pansy creep! I heard him, making lewd suggestions!” Sergeant Shadwell declared. 

Raphael huffed. _“I am_ not _a pansy!”_ He said irritably. _“What did I ever pay you for, Shadwell, to sit behind my back and insult me?”_

“Mister Crowley?” Shadwell gasped. “You’re a demon!” 

_“The name’s Raphael, actually. And I think if you bother to review your theology, Sergeant, you’ll realize that I am the opposite of a demon.”_

"Theology, eh? And what do you mean by that, demon?" 

_"You should know that theologically, Raphael is an archangel. Not a demon. I'm not a demon. Now can we move on to something else so that maybe I get out of here in time to stop Armageddon?"_

"And I'm just supposed to believe that you're some archangel when you've been tellin' me you're Missus Crowley's son?" Shadwell demanded. "That you're some kind of angel?" 

_"Why do you think my mother and I look so similar, Shadwell. We're the same angel. Now could we get a move on? I have to get to the Tadfield Airbase. Miss- incidentally, what's you name?"_

"Madame Tracy."

 _"Great. Madame Tracy, do you have any means of transportation?"_ Raphael asked, looking around the apartment he had wound up in. 

"I in fact do! A little scooter. I even have a second helmet for Mister Shadwell!" Madame Tracy declared. 

_"Wait. Why is Sergeant Shadwell coming along? I assure you, humans are not going to be much use at Armageddon. You're collateral!"_ Raphael cried, waving his hands out. 

"She may be the Whore of Babylon-"

 _"She is_ not _the Whore of Babylon, I assure you. I would know. I'm fairly sure she won't be making an appearance."_

"I'm not leavin' her with the likes of you!" 

_"You're very backwards, a human who fears leaving someone in the hands of an angel. I won't say you're not being smart, most angels are terrible. Not much better than demons, honestly. But I am not going to harm her."_

"I'm still not leavin' you alone with her!" 

Raphael rolled his eyes. _"Fine. Let's get going."_

_Heaven_

"Oh dear Lord-" Raphael pressed a hand against their nose, pulled it back and saw something crimson shining on their fingers. 

They set the star they were working on to the side as their head started to swim. 

They sat down _hard,_ felt something drip down from their eye. 

They hadn't even been working hard. Gabriel had come in with a twisted wing, which they had easily put back into place. Besides that, the Metatron had ordered them to work in the garden, polishing up the edges, working on that damned _tree._ There was going to be something to do with the tree, and Raphael didn't want anything to do with it. 

So they had ignored the Metatron and walked off into the gallery, found themselves some stars to polish up, found themselves some bare space left in the sky, and got to work. 

And now there was blood dripping from their nose and eye and they couldn't stand up. 

They _knew_ it was soon after the war, soon after their over-exertion. The Metatron's tasks were well selected for them, with their weakened state in mind, they weren't asked to do anything that took too much out of them, but avoiding those tasks led them to ones that were much more exhausting.

And now what were they supposed to do? They couldn't stand, they couldn't find the strength to stand back up. 

So they slumped over their knees, and waited. Someone would find them.

Aziraphale had been sent, yet again, to find Raphael. 

He didn't mind. He loved the excuse to go and find the Archangel, loved any reason to even catch a glimpse of the angel. 

And he had a feeling he knew where the angel was hiding. It was, after all, Raphael's favourite place to go. 

He burst into the gallery, expecting to find Raphael sitting up on the ledge, weaving stars from their fingers and breathing a semblance of life into inanimate creations. 

Not sprawled across the floor, blood leaking from their nose, their eyes, their ear. They were limp, eyes closed, their blood dripped steadily onto the floor. 

"Raphael! Someone, we need help in here!" He shouted. 

"Shhh… 'm not s'pposed t'be here," they breathed, cracking their eyes open a little. 

"Raphael you're bleeding!" 

They seemed confused for a moment. Held a hand up to their face, saw the dried blood on their fingers. "S'nothing." 

"You can try that on your siblings, but don't you try that on me. You're going straight to the infirmary and resting some more, Raphael, clearly this was too soon for you to go back to work!" Aziraphale cried, lifting the angel off the ground. Raphael shifted a little, rested their head upon his shoulder. Blood soaked into his white robes. 

"'ll be fine," Raphael murmured. "Just a lil' overworked." 

The more they moved and spoke, the more blood ran from their nose. Aziraphale shushed them. 

"My dear, you're obviously not fine. Whatever the Metatron told you to do, it was clearly too soon." 

"Metatron didn't tell me to do it," Raphael said. Aziraphale looked down at them in surprise. "They wanted me 'n the garden. Said no." 

Aziraphale sighed. "Nonetheless, it was still too soon. You're going to have a nice rest, and have a dream of whatever you like best, and I'm going to get one of your healers to see to you." 

Aziraphale hadn't realized that was a miracle until Raphael's eyes fluttered closed and their breathing evened out. 

Blood bubbled at their nostrils with every breath they took. It was matted in their eyelashes, streaked across their face. 

He bit his lip and rushed towards the infirmary a little bit faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so this is a long way out but it's time to start voting, for the night before the trials I have 2 versions of the chapter, one with a metric fucktonne of angst and comfort and sweet sweet fluff and a flashback I'll stick elsewhere if you pick the other version, the other version glosses over that angst in a way that's not quite healthy buuuuut hey it's gratuitous porn so like. Which would you like to be in the actual story? I'm more than willing to post both, but given they both start the same, I can't put them both in this book, the other will be posted alone.


	17. Arsonist's Lullabye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Arsonist's Lullabye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEtkIRlz7Vw)

_When I was a child, I'd sit for hours  
Staring into open flame  
Something in it had a power,  
Could barely tear my eyes away_

Azra hopped into Raphael's Bentley. It was the fastest way he could think of to get to Tadfield. He knew what that car was capable of, he watched Raphael push the pedal to the metal on most occasions and cruise through London at over ninety miles per hour often enough. 

So he hopped in the driver's seat, for the first time ever. It was lucky he didn't know you needed keys to drive, because Raphael kept them on his person, shifted the car into drive without pushing on the clutch, and the car jumped to life. 

"Driving's not so hard," he remarked, pulling out onto the road and stepping down on the gas. 

His mind was still reeling from the admittedly welcome shock he had gotten. 

It wasn’t as though he had never expected Raphael to get discorporated, if it weren’t for his aide, the angel would have died countless times. He still remembered somehow sneaking the Archangel away from witchfinders who were about to burn him at the stake. 

Azra couldn't blame the witchfinders for thinking Raphael had been a witch at the time, with uncombed hair down to his hips, a dress that hadn't been washed in months, a cat with a _very_ funny name and with them running around, performing minor miracles and curing people of everything they knew not to be curable and babbling about this not being a part of the Great Plan. 

Not to mention the fact that one peek under his sunglasses and the witchfinders were convinced the angel wasn't human.

He honestly wondered why the angel had been so damned shocked that he had been about to be burned at stake. He had spent the entire time going off about an actual witch just a few villages away, who was currently publishing a book of prophecy. 

Sometimes, Azra swore, the angel was _trying_ to get discorporated.

Of course, the same could be said for himself, if Raphael hadn’t shown up on several occasions he would have lost this current corporation, but this was different. 

It had been _Infernal Fire._ Raphael had nearly been destroyed. He had thoroughly believed that the Archangel was _gone_ and as much as he had often wished, although not recently, to get rid of him, the mere thought had been enough to choke him. 

And even now that he knew that the angel was okay, was just cruising the earth, searching for a body he could hitch a ride in, it was still eating at him. 

It wasn’t his fault the bookshop had burned down. It wasn’t his fault it had been Infernal Fire coursing up the walls. 

But all of the sudden, he understood why Raphael had refused to let him have the Holy Water, back in the nineteenth century. 

Because it almost did feel like it was his fault. Like if he had just kept the damn fire himself, it wouldn’t have been there to nearly destroy the angel. Raphael never would have been in real danger if he had just held onto the fire himself, if he had never insisted on needing the Holy Water. He probably could have gotten away from Hastur and Ligur without it. And then Raphael wouldn’t have nearly died. Wouldn’t be discorporated. Would be easily making his way to the Tadfield Airbase, probably in this very car. 

It certainly should not have been Azra driving, considering Raphael had banned him from ever driving the car back in the 1970s. Azra was never have never been entirely sure what he had done that meant he wasn't allowed to drive, but he was sure that Raphael was quite insistent about it. The car had a tendency not to move if it wasn't Raphael in the driver's seat. 

Azra was honestly surprised it would even move without its owner. It seemed like Raphael to have blessed it not to.

It wasn't like he wasn't grateful that hadn't been the case. The car was speeding along, until it suddenly _wasn't._

In the blink of an eye, he was standing still, in the longest line of traffic he had ever seen. 

Horns honked all around him, windscreen wipers flicked the heavy rain away. 

Confused, Azra flicked on the radio. 

_It's been confirmed, this is the biggest traffic jam in London history!_ The woman proclaimed. 

Azra groaned and let his face fall into his hands. "Why?" 

_Officials are quoted as saying the problems are being caused by problems on the M25._

"For Satan's sake, Raphael, so it's your fault?" Azra muttered. "Why do you insist on being such a flash bastard?" 

Azra's idea of stirring up trouble with the M25 had been deleting some of the plans, messing with the workers and keeping the area under construction for months longer than originally planned. 

Raphael's idea, after he had lost the coin toss, had been to hack into three computers, bribe selectively and run some markers across a field one night to make it so that the once normal-shaped motorway now looked like the dread sigil Odegra. And Azra couldn't deny, Hell had been thoroughly impressed, but he'd be shocked if that had nothing to do with the traffic jam.

He groaned, pulled the Bentley up onto the pedestrian pavements. Pressed his foot down on the pedal, still not realizing he needed to shift gears, so he didn't need to. 

He drove cautiously down the pavement, ignoring the weird looks he got as he drove past the droves of vehicles lined up along the motorway.

Whatever. He needed to get to Tadfield, which meant he had to get past everyone else and across the M25, whatever it took. 

It didn't take long, driving down the pavement as he was, for Azra to reach the M25.

However, one look at the motorway proved that getting there was the least of his worries.

The M25 orbital motorway that Raphael had spent so long changing into a demonic sigil had erupted into flames. It had become an impossible ring of demonic Hellfire. Satan knew how an Archangel head even pulled that off in the first place, surely it must have been impossible for a holy creature to create such a sigil that at the end of the world would just decide to burst into infernal flames. 

But apparently not, since Azra staring at it. Each and every vehicle along the length of the motorway had exploded, erupted into flames that crackled with hellish power. He couldn't fathom how he was going to be able to cross it. The Bentley would never make it, even with Raphael's meticulous care for the vehicle for the last almost a hundred years, it would never make it. The old machines just weren't built to make it across Hellfire.

And if they got out of the end of the world, avoided Armageddon and being destroyed by their respective sides, it was going to be very hard for Azra to explain why he had thought it was a good idea to drive Raphael's Bentley through Hellfire in the first place. Maybe this was why he wasn't allowed to drive the vehicle when the Archangel was around.

But at the moment, as it stood, he could see no other choice. He had to get across the M25 in order to get out to Tadfield. He had to stop Armageddon.

He grit his teeth, set his jaw and press the pedal down. Raphael was never going to let him live this down, he thought, as the flames encircled the old car.

But by God, by Satan, the Bentley was going to get him across the M25 and to Tadfield. There was no way he was going to let the Archangels card give up on him. It had lasted through the blitz, it had lasted through Rafphael's hippie phase, although the smell of what was most certainly not cigarettes had never quite come out of the leather, and it was going to survive this.

He jammed a CD into the radio. For a while, Mozart played throughout the car, until his own stupid curse came to bite him and it morphed into something much more familiar to any human.

_The machine of a dream, such a clean machine_

_With the pistons a pumpin', and the hubcaps all gleam…_

Azra sighed. As long as the Bentley got him where he needed to go, it could play whatever it liked.

_Heaven_

Raphael was most definitely sick of spending all of his time in the Infirmary. Ordinarily, when he was forced to do so, it was because he was the Healer of Heaven, and angels were being stupid.

Ordinarily, it wasn't because every time he performed a miracle blood started leaking out his nose. And eyes. And ears. It was very much starting to frighten his siblings, and Raphael didn't want to admit that it was frightening him too. 

It had started off only being major miracles that said anything off, and Rafael had written it off to overexertion during the war. He had, after all, expended a lot of his energy healing angels that day. More than he'd ever been forced to do before. and so when his first few major miracles didn't work out well for him, or when too many miracles in one day caused a tear of blood to drip down his cheek, he wasn't too concerned. Aziraphale certainly was, as were Michael and Gabriel, but he had figured it was probably just the after effects of his exhaustion and would go away soon.

It hadn’t. 

This had not been a major miracle, not even close. He had snapped his fingers to straighten out a flower in the garden, and the next thing he had known he had been on the ground, staring up a Michael through a haze of red. 

And then he had been lying in a bed in the infirmary, with all his siblings and Aziraphale staring down at him in concern. 

And it just felt like something was wrong. Shouldn’t he have been getting better? He hadn’t done a major miracle in weeks, not since Aziraphale had had to catch him before he fell face-first into the model of the stars he had been working with, tweaking how one of the many planets orbited. 

He had known better than to try to go and do it in person, and it was insult to injury to nearly pass out and have his own blood that Aziraphale had failed to clean out properly wind up a new nebula, somewhere far off in the sky. 

They were normally made of the dust of dying stars. Apparently the blood that leaked out an Archangel’s nose would when he tried to perform one of his routine tasks would do, too. 

Since then, he hadn’t worked with anything major. He had agreed to the Metatron’s petty tasks in the garden, which were reassigned to him since the incident. After he had been caught in the observatory instead of in the garden, apparently, Mother had decided that he must know his own wellness better than She did, and that must have been why he ignored his assigned task, that it had been too simple. So, She had told the Metatron to assign them the task of polishing up the starry expanse that had been _supposed_ to be left to Samael, now known as Lucifer. 

And that had been where Aziraphale had prevented him from face planting into the dark expanse of the star-filled universe. A concerned Michael had convinced the Metatron to give Aziraphale tasks that kept him near Raphael, in an attempt to keep him supervised. 

Until he had passed out. Then Michael had assigned herself the task. And she had done a good job of it, keeping an eye out for him in the garden until that one stupid flower came along and he had tried to fix it, and now he was confined to the infirmary. 

And he couldn’t figure out why miracles were becoming impossible. 

Was he being punished? Did God know that he had been tempted by Lucifer’s offer of the book?

Did God know that he was the angel who had hidden Lucifer’s lost copy of the Great Plan somewhere only he would find it, and grappled with the temptation to read it? 

Did God know that he had been on edge since the war, left broken and raw and open and terrified of what could happen next, because he believed Lucifer wouldn’t lie to him, he believed that something terrible was fated for either himself or Aziraphale, and he couldn’t handle not knowing what it would be? 

Was this his punishment for not discriminating on the battlefield, for healing friend and foe equally? He knew it was disloyal when he had done it, when he had raised a hand and healed those who had held a sword to his brethren, but it was what he was made to do. He hadn’t been made with a biase, how could he be expected to refuse to help some people based on where their swords pointed?

Or was this fluke? Was he reading much too far into the situation and he was just not as recovered as he thought he was? 

That one seemed the least likely. He had been graced with time to recover. No one else in Heaven seemed to believe he should still be recovering, they were as confused as he was. 

“Raphael, just look at you! You’re thinking too hard, working yourself into a right tizzy. Why don’t you just relax a little bit?” Aziraphale asked. “Whatever you’re trying to piece together can wait until you’re well and up and creating stars again. I promise, once you are I’ll even help you figure it out, if only to see you get some rest, my dear.”

“Something is _wrong,_ Aziraphale. I can feel it. And I can’t just sit by and let it happen anymore,” Raphael said, digging his nails into the fleshy palms of his hands until he felt pain bite into them. “This isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I can _tell._ There’s something else going on, something that God won’t tell us, and I’m sick of being in the dark about the reasons behind everything!”

“Why do you think something has to be going on, dear?”

“What is the garden for? What is that tree for? Why am I cursed with the inability to perform a miracle after the war without bleeding for it? Why was Lucifer so convinced something was going to happen to-”

Aziraphale stared at him. “What did Lucifer tell you, Raphael?” He asked, voice dangerously low. “You know you can’t trust a word that beast says to people. He was probably trying to lure you onto his side, corrupt your thinking in God.”

“Well he did a great bloody job of it!” Raphael shouted. “Lie or no, he did a pretty damn good job! I can’t sit in the dark like this anymore and it’s not all his fault but he certainly didn’t help!”

Aziraphale looked worried. “What are you going to do?”

Raphael sighed. “Once Michael lets me out of this infirmary, I’m going to get some answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to that spare posting where I could put the... at the moment your votes say porn, please lmk if you want to see Azra rescue our dumb archangel from the witchfinders, I could add that too


	18. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Under Pressure](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a01QQZyl-_I)

_ Pressure pushing down on me _

_ Pressing down on you, no man ask for _

_ Under pressure that burns a building down _

_ Splits a family in two _

_ Puts people on streets _

_ “Azra, what have you done to my car? This is why I never let you drive it!” _ Raphael shouted, storming up to Azra in the body of a short, spunky looking old lady with red hair.  _ “How in Heaven’s name did you manage to light it on fire?"  _

"Well, your big project with the M25 back in the seventies led to it bursting into flame today. So in many ways, this is your fault. It's a nice dress you're wearing, suits you," azra said, trying and change the subject. 

_ "Don't think you're getting away with it that easily, Azra. How am I ever going to-"  _

Raphael's voice cut out as the Bentley exploded.

She stared in horror as bits and pieces of the car she had kept intact and in beautiful shape for the last almost one hundred years erupted, glass and metal flying everywhere.

"Raphael, it looks like we have a bigger problem than an exploding car. You're going to need to get over that. The army man is walking over here, he has a gun, Raphael! He's pointing it at us!" Azra exclaimed, pointing a finger at the gun.

"Whoever you are, I'm giving you five seconds to vacate this area right now! Otherwise I shoot!"

"Don't make me use my finger, laddie!"

Raphael spun on her heel, snapped her fingers, and the man disappeared.

Then she turned back to the ruins of the Bentley, walked all the way up to where a tire iron and fell on the ground, and picked it up.  _ "You were a good car," _ she said ruefully.

She let out a deep sigh and seemed to realize that she could continue being mad at Azra about her car later. For now, they needed to avoid Armageddon.

_ "Fine, well, follow me," _ she said walking in the gate and down the paved runway towards where four children, and four beings that were certainly not children had already assembled.  _ "Azra, tell me you recognize the Antichrist as one of those children."  _

"The curly one in the middle. If we kill him, we save the world." 

_ "Excellent. Well I would advise getting on with it then Azra." _

"I'm not going to kill my boss's son! Do I look suicidal? You kill him, he's your nephew!"

_ "That's the point, Azra. He's my nephew, I can't kill him. Besides, I'm God's healer you can't expect me to kill a child." _

Azra had to suppose she was right. He couldn't really expect Raphael to kill her nephew, he couldn't really expect Raphael to kill anyone.

Azra held out his hand, he didn't have a weapon but he certainly had magical means of eliminating children, when Raphael, or, not Raphael, slapped his hand down. "You can't just kill children!" The woman whose body Raphael had borrowed yelled.

The Antichrist looked at them in confusion. "Excuse me," he started, narrowing his eyes, "why are you two people?"

_ "Long story. Lost my own body, this was the best I could do." _

"It's not right. You should go back to being two separate people."

No sooner had the Antichrist spoke, that it happened. It was an odd sight to witness, as Raphael was pulled from inside the woman's body and appeared momentarily after standing in the exact shape she had been in before her discorporation. She examined the new corporation, seemedvto see that it was the same as the one she had previously had.

Satisfied, she tapped her temple and summoned her staff to her hand. Azra had to admit that even in that white and pink suit, she looked formidable with her weapon in hand, not that he had ever known Raphael to draw the staff as a weapon.

"Well, I have to thank you for that," she said dusting off her white blazer. "I appreciate your hospitality, Madame Tracy, but it is nice to be back in my own body."

_Ignore this nonsense._ Azra looked up and recognized the face of Death. After spending so long with the Archangel who took it upon herself to preserve life in every situation, he was well acquainted with the Angel of Death. _With one word from you, I shall end their very existence. You're one of us, not one of them._

"You know, Azrael, after over six thousand years, I thought you would have more respect for my existence than this. This is by far the worst I've been treated by you, and I'm including back in Egypt when you tore through the same land, killing children twice in the course of twenty years." Raphael remarked, folding her arms over her chest.

Death looked at her in disgust. _That was then and this is now, Healer. Surely you understand that in the face Armageddon, your lives mean nothing._

"I know who my friends are," the Antichrist declared, staring Death down. "And they aren't you. There won't be a war." 

War contemplated them. "Little boys with their toys," she began, in a voice as smooth as silk. "I  _ am _ War. You were made to live in me, to serve me, and to die in me. All except for Adam. He alone, is our equal. There will be war. I am unavoidable."

A young girl in a red raincoat scuffed. "I'm not a boy. And  _ we _ are Adam's real friends. Not you lot."

War staring at her in surprise. "A little girl! Run home and play with your dollies, little girl."

The girl's face turned venomous. "I do not endorse everyday sexism," she snapped, taking a step towards War.

"Say what you believe, Pepper," the Antichrist, known as Adam, suggested.

Pepper stepped forward, stomping a foot on War's and causing her to drop the flaming sword Azra had just realized she was holding. She picked it up off the ground, and stabbed it into War's chest. "I believe in peace, bitch."

War screamed and erupted into flames. "Drop the sword, Pepper," Adam instructed.

Another child lifted the sword off the ground. "I believe in a clean world." He said, thrusting the sword into Pollution. They cried out, dissolving into black sludge, crown falling to the ground.

The third child pulled the sword from the ground. "I believe in a healthy lunch," he declared.

Unlike his predecessors, Famine fought. Grabbed the blade of the sword, and attempted to wrestle it from the child.

Raphael picked that moment to speak. "Didn't that used to be your sword?" She asked. 

Azra took a look at it. "Yes, I believe it was."

The Hellhound bit Famine's heel, and it was enough for him to lose the fight. The child touched him with the blade, and he crackled into nothing.

_ You cannot destroy me, _ entoned Death. _ I am the answer to Creation. If death is anywhere, it is everywhere. To destroy me, would be to destroy the concept of life itself. _

"But Armageddon will stop," the Antichrist verified.

Death nodded. _ It cannot continue without the Horsemen. But we will be back. We are never far away. _

They unfolded their wings, wings that were cut of the blackest shapes, wings that held little flickers of light that could have been stars, or could have been something entirely else. And they flew away.

"Cheeky bastard," Raphael muttered. Azra almost laughed.

Was about to laugh, when lightning crackled in front of him and a shape rose from the ground beside it.

The lightning continued to crackle, until it formed a figure he had not seen, personally, in a very, very, long time. Such a long time, in fact, that he almost didn't recognize it.

But Raphael certainly did. She ducked her head, folded in a curtsy that was so low that she would have fallen if Azra hadn't grabbed her elbow and held her up. "Gabriel," she began, not daring to look up.

"I believe it would be best if you didn't speak, Raphael," Gabriel warned.

The second figure, the one that rose from the ground, Azra unfortunately did recognize.

"Lord Beelzebub, what an honor," he began, bowing. 

"Azra. The traitor." 

"You know, that's really not a pleasant word." 

"All the other words I have for you are worze. Now where is the boy?" They demanded. 

Azra nodded in the direction of the Antichrist. 

"He's right there, Gabriel. Adam Young," Raphael muttered. She had still not looked up. 

Gabriel didn't give her the dignity of a response. He grinned and walked up to Adam. "Young man, Armageddon must restart. Immediately. Temporary inconvenience cannot get in the way of the Great Plan." 

"In the matter of which it standz to dezide, that is yet to be dezided, but the battle muzt be dezided now, boy!" Beelzebub hissed. 

Gabriel gave them a look. 

"You both want to destroy the earth, just to see who's gang is best."

"Obviously!" Gabriel agreed, a dumb look upon his face. "It's the Great Plan! The entire reason for the creation of the earth!" 

Beelzebub glared at him. "I've got thiz. When all of thiz iz over, Adam, you're going to get to rule the world! Don't you want to rule the world?"

Adam shook his head. "It's hard enough thinking of things for Pepper and Wensley and Brian to do so they don't get bored. I have all the world I need, right here in Tadfield." 

Gabriel gaped. "But- you can't just refuse to be who you are!" He spluttered. "It's the Great Plan, it's your destiny!" 

Adam didn't appear moved, but that wasn't going to matter if someone didn't stop the Archangel and the Prince of Hell. Azra was at a loss for what to do. 

But Raphael wasn't. She stepped forward, head up, shoulders back and glasses gone, more confident before her brother than she had been in millenia. "You keep talking about the Great Plan." 

"Raphael, it would be best for  _ everyone  _ if you shut your mouth and don't dig yourself further into the pit you've put yourself in!" Gabriel snarled. 

Raphael seemed to expect such a reaction. She didn't blink. "And I mean, I had a copy of the Ineffable Plan, at one point. The only copy of the Ineffable Plan. And there was just one thing I couldn't figure out about it. Is it the Great Plan, as well?" She asked. "Or are they separate? After all, we all know the Great Plan by now, but if I'd read that book, my wings would be as black as our brother's."

"Asking questions is what got you into trouble in the first place, Raphael, now I think you should shut  _ up  _ before I  _ make  _ you. Remember what your actions entail! What you could cost us both with your careless tongue!" 

"The consequence for myself doesn't scare me anymore, and you've far from given me a reason to worry about you," she spat, knuckles white around the gold inlaid wood of the staff that she claimed to have owned since her creation. 

Crowley hissed in Gabriel's face as the Archangel spluttered to try and answer.

Beelzebub took over in his blunder. "It iz the Great Plan, it iz written! There will be a world and it shall last for six thouzand years and end in fire and flamez!" 

Raphael focused her attention on the Prince of Hell. "That's the Great Plan, alright, but is it the Ineffable Plan?" 

"You know they're- well- they must be the same thing!" Gabriel shouted. "You must know, of all angels, that they must be the same thing!"

"You don't know!" Azra realized. "Wouldn't it be quite the tizzy if you thought you were doing what the Great Plan said, but you were actually going directly against the Ineffable Plan?" He asked. 

Beelzebub and Gabriel looked at each other. Looked back at the demon. 

"It's- it's the Great Plan!" 

"Everyone knows the Great Plan, but no one but God and Lucifer know the Ineffable Plan. By definition, you can't know it," Azra said. "It's ineffable." 

"But- it iz written!"

"But how do you know it hasn't been written differently somewhere else?" Azra asked. 

"In capital letters!" Raphael added. 

"And underlined!" 

"Twice!" 

"God does not play games with the universe!" 

"What rock have you been living under, Gabriel?" Raphael asked.

Gabriel looked about ready to turn whatever weapon he had for the coming war against his sister, but his resolve was shaken. He touched Beelzebub's shoulder, had them turn away from the angel and the demon.

"I'm going to have to talk to… Head Office. How I'm supposed to get ten million angels to step down from their war footings is- it doesn't bear thinking about." 

"You should try telling ten million demonz to put down their weaponz and return to work." Beelzebub said. 

Gabriel whirled on his heel, glaring at his sister. "At least we know who's fault it is!" 

She grinned, a sharp-toothed grin full of pointed teeth and fake sweetness.

Azra waved at Beelzebub when the Prince of Hell's gaze fell on him. 

Gabriel turned back to Adam. "You!" 

"Yes?" 

"You were put on this earth for one reason, and that is to  _ end it!"  _ He spat at the child. Raphael took a step towards her brother, clearly concerned he would lash out at the boy. 

Without looking up, Gabriel snapped his fingers in their direction and shot her with a gust of wind that nearly knocked her off her feet, and forced her to back up. "I'll deal with you later, Raphael, for now, stay out of it,"

he readdressed Adam, "you're a disobedient little  _ brat  _ and I hope someone tells your father!"

"Oh, someone will." Beelzebub promised, glaring at the boy. "And his father will not be pleazed." 

And with that, they were gone. 

"Weren't they odd?" Madame Tracy said from where she and Sergeant Shadwell were standing. 

Raphael hands were still white-knuckled around her staff, she stared at where her brother had stood, confidence clearly shaken out of her. 

"What did Gabriel mean, consequences?" Azra asked, furrowing his brow. "Has this got something to do with why you've never told me why you have demon eyes?" 

When Raphael turned to look at him, he was surprised to see her yellow-gold eyes bright with tears, one having slipped down her cheek. Confronting her brother had taken a lot out of her, and Azra immediately felt bad for trying to wrestle answers from her now. "Sorry. You don't have to- I'm sure they're not demon eyes." 

Raphael muttered something he didn't catch, stroked her fingers against Crowley's smooth white scales. The serpent's tongue flickered over her fingers. 

"Isn't that- is that- you're an angel, aren't you?" A young woman demanded. 

Azra was surprised to see it was the girl with the book who had crashed into Raphael's car. 

"You!" 

She looked at them both. "You stole my book!" 

Azra pulled it from his coat and offered it to her. One prophecy fell from the singed papers, he caught it and tucked it in his pocket.

"I'm an angel for now," Raphael agreed. "Not once the Metatron gets word of this."

"Isn't that the Serpent of Eden?" 

Raphael laughed, but it was bitter and sad. "No. That's me. We really don't have time to catch you up on all of this, we need to get this whole-"

"No! No no no no no no no!" Azra collapsed go the ground, clutching at his chest and searing pain fired through him. 

"Azra, tell me that isn't-" Raphael began, stopped herself.

"They've done it. They've told his father. You should get ready for another family reunion, Raphael, your brother is about to make an appearance." 


	19. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Valentine's Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAFOpywZbMM)

_ My insides all turned to ash, so slow _

_ And blew away as I collapsed, so cold _

_ A black wind took them away from sight _

_ And held the darkness over day, that night _

_ And the clouds above move closer _

_ Looking so dissatisfied _

_ But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing _

_ I used to be my own protection, but not now _

_ 'Cause my path has lost direction, somehow _

_ A black wind took you away from sight _

_ And held the darkness over day, that night _

"What's happening?" The young woman with the book demanded. "Something's coming, I can feel it. And whatever it is, it's angry." 

Raphael's mouth was dry. She knew the answer, but she couldn't speak. She couldn't bring herself to force anything out of her mouth. 

"The Devil is coming. Satan himself," Azra declared. "Raphael, I'm not powerful enough to do anything about it, you have to tr-" 

Everything froze. For a moment, Raphael I could see everyone around her, frozen in the very moment that time had stopped. Even the Antichrist was not an exception, frozen with a fearful look on his face.

It has been a long time since someone with that power, with  _ such _ power had done this. Raphael almost forgot what it felt like, to be pulled out of time. She blinked, and what had once stood before her was gone.

Instead, the landscape was black. The last time this person had done this, it had been bright and cheerful and colourful, and it had just been an experiment.

Now it was a threat. Removed from time, there was nothing anyone could do to help the Archangel. She was hopelessly at the mercy of the person who had trapped her here, the only person who could defend her being herself.

Her knuckles went white around her staff. She knew it could be wielded as a weapon, although she had never done so before.

The person who had trapped her here was counting on that. He had known her since she had first drew breath, known her since she had begun to exist. He knew her well enough to know that she was not a fighting spirit.

"Little sister." His voice hadn't changed. In many ways, Raphael wish that it had. It would have been easier to deal with this conversation, if it wasn't a smack in the face right out of the past.

"Still meddling with everything you shouldn't be, I see."

She couldn't see him yet. She was quite sure she didn't want to. He wasn't going to resemble the brother that had fallen out of Heaven, although she wasn't sure she wanted him to.

He would be scarred and disfigured from his fall oh, just like every other fallen Angel.

"You've left me no other choice, older brother. Tell me, why am I here?"

She was proud to note that her voice didn't shake. Even as what could not be described as a man approached her. A hulking figure, far taller than her, although not as tall as she expected, with red skin and horns and black eyes approached.

"You always have a choice, little Raphael. You always make the wrong one, but you always have a choice."

"The last wrong choice I made was following you down that damned hallway."

Lucifer circled her. his black eyes seem to bore into her soul, if she had one. She fought not to tremble under his gaze.

"Your lips say one thing, but your eyes say another. And I don't mean that metaphorically, little sister. Don't think I don't know what creatures have ruined eyes, I control them."

Raphael had never wished for her pair of sunglasses more than she did right now. She knew he was right.

"Why have you brought me here?" She demanded. "I am not the one who refuses to start Armageddon, Beelzebub did not summon you to deal with me. I'm not under your jurisdiction." 

"I'm here to keep my promise, Raphael. I promise I made you 6,000 years ago, when I showed you a book I had once found. A book that I know you remain the only angel to know where it is."

"You mean the Ineffable Plan."

"Indeed. And what did I always tell you would happen if you told Michael that I had a copy?"

A lump swelled Raphael's throat. She knew what had been promised, she knew what her brother had told her he would do. "You had already fallen," she began, "surely it cannot matter at that point. You had already shown your copy of the book. Michael knew you had it! It can't matter!" She was rambling, desperate now. Lucifer had too much power over Azra, more than he had ever had before. "You already told her yourself, I just told her why I was so messed up! And it was your fault!" 

"Everything matters," Lucifer told her. "You broke your promise, and you know what I had told you what happened if you told Michael."

"You can't hurt him!"

"He is a creature of my domain, I think you will find I can do as I please with him. I could go so far as to end his very existence, and you would not get to say a thing about it." Lucifer grinned, a grin full of sharp teeth and malice. Raphael bit her lip.

"I'm not the naive little Archangel that you once terrified. I'm not afraid of you. If you were going to take your revenge for what I did, you already would have." Raphael declared, glaring at her brother.

She narrowed her eyes, daring him to prove her wrong.

Lucifer laughed. "You think I have nothing better to do than to make my little sister suffer for something she did? Your punishment comes at my leisure, at  _ my  _ convenience. And now that you seem to think that you've saved the world and can run off with your little friend, it seems as good a time as any. After all, why wouldn't I want to rob you of your happy ending immediately before you get it?"

Raphael blinked, and when she opened her eyes she was no longer standing in the dark expanse Lucifer brought her to.

She was back in the Tadfield Airbase. All around her, her friends and new acquaintances remained frozen. She fought against Lucifer's spell, seeing if she could wake even one of them to what was going on, but she had never been as powerful as her brother.

She turned to face Lucifer. He now had to sword, as dark as black as night, a sword that seemed to suck the colour right out of the world around it, in his hands.

Before Raphael had a chance to even steady her weapon, Lucifer had lunged at Azra, and there was only one thing she could do.

Astro was frozen, defenseless, couldn't do anything against the onslaught that approached him. There was only one person who could.

And she would have to move fast.

Raphael put herself in the way of the strike.

She cried out as the pain of the weapon biting into her flesh, digging deep into her stomach, spread throughout what seemed to be her entire body. It hurt like nothing had ever hurt before.

It was an infernal blade. She should have known. It didn't just hurt her physical form, it felt like something was eating away at her very being.

Lucifer laughed as he pulled the blade backwards, and his sister gasped as the sword slid out of the wound, and blood flowed freely, soaking her pink shirt. She clutched the hand to her wound, wondering if she could heal it, but one attempt proved she could not.

An angel could heal the effects of an infernal blade, but Raphael couldn't do it herself, not with the wound sapping into her strength. Someone else would have to do it. She was too weak to do it herself, even seconds after the wound was inflicted.

And she was the only healer that was going to be here for a long while.

She steadied herself upright by leaning  _ hard  _ on her staff, she swayed on her feet. Her gaze fixed itself on her feet, her white snakeskin shoes, even as she wobbled.

"Fool." Lucifer sneered. 

Raphael looked up at her brother, just in time to be pushed to the ground, sprawled across the cold tarmac, scraping her elbow open as she slammed into the hard concrete. Her white coat ripped against the rough stone. "He might have survived the wounds, infernal as they are. Infernal blades don't sap the life-force of demons like they do angels. He might have lived. But you certainly won't." 

Lucifer paced around the angel, who's head would not stop spinning. She felt sick, bile rising up in her throat, pain pulsing with her every move. "It's amazing what telling you about that book caused, you know that, sister? And I say that because telling you about that book has doomed  _ both  _ of you."

"You only said that something would happen to one of us!" 

"And that was true. But, you see, the book never said anything would happen to your precious little Aziraphale." 

He leaned down, until his hot breath was all Raphael could feel against her face. "It said  _ you  _ were going to Fall. And oh, did I look forward to that." 

Raphael only managed to cough, gasp for breath. 

"But somehow, you avoided Falling. And the plan changed. And  _ you  _ gave me your little angel. By refusing your own fate, you sacrificed him. And now all of that has led to you bleeding at my feet, and him still under my power. You haven't saved anyone." 

"No! No you- it can't be true!" 

"Have a little faith in me, sister. Would I lie to you?" 

Lucifer laughed as he walked away from her.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks. It couldn't be. This couldn't be her fault. She couldn't have caused Azra's suffering. She couldn't have caused his Fall.

She knew the time must have started again, as all of a sudden there was a hand on her shoulder, shaking her and making her cry out as pain coursed through her entire body. A frantic voice in her ear asked her what had happened. 

She didn't manage to answer.

Besides, there were worse problems. Satan was here. They would not escape him.

"Raphael! Raphael what happened?" Azra demanded, but seemed to realize he wasn't going to get an answer. Her head lolled against his shoulder. He brushed her red hair out of her face, streaked blood against her cheek. It was a stark contrast to her paling skin. "What do we do now?" He asked. "How do I help you?" 

"We say goodbye. You can't help."

Raphael knew it was bleak, she knew it sounded like giving up, but it wasn't as though they could fight Satan himself. They had bet on their plan, and it had failed. This was no longer just about Armageddon. This was personal, vengeance against not only Satan's son, but his sister too.

And she was getting weaker. Her strength was slipping away, flowing to the ground with her blood.

"There must be something we can do!" Azra insisted, pressing a hand against the pulsing wound in Raphael's stomach. Blood spilled faster than she would have thought possible, soaking into her white slacks, puddling on the ground around her. She was going to be discorporated again.

Only with the use of an infernal blade, it would not simply be discorporation

"I'm not as powerful as my brother. There's nothing I can do. We are fucked!" She cried, coughing and seeing blood drip down her chin, her shirt.

"Come up with something! Or I'll- I'll never talk to you again."

And that was the final straw, even though it was a pointless threat. Of course he wouldn't talk to her again, she would be dead. 

But her foggy,  _ dying  _ brain didn't process that. The threat was all Raphael could take. Today had swirled through and tried to rob her of everything that was important to her, one at a time, and she was not going to let it take this. She'd held on to Azra since the very beginning, through the blessedly good times, and through the hardship the last six thousand years have been.

If there was even the slightest chance, she wasn't going to lose him. 

She threw her arms towards the sky and screamed, blood arcing off her fingertips as she thrust them towards the heavens.

The world went black. For a second, Raphael thought that perhaps her efforts had robbed her of the last bit of strength she had. Perhaps this was the end. Perhaps this was oblivion.

Until she felt sand move beneath her feet. She realized she was standing again. Her wings were spread behind her, the sun warming the blue feathers.

When she looked up, she was standing on the shore of the Nile. She had always loved the shore of the Nile. 

And she wasn't alone.

Azra stood at her side, flaming sword in his hand, crow black wings spread behind him.

Raphael took a deep breath, found that though she was still in pain, she could breathe a little easier now. She cracked her neck, let out a sigh.

It was not just Azra with her. Adam stood with them as well. 

"What's happening?" The Antichrist asked.

He was just a boy. Raphael felt a twinge of sympathy for the suffering this boy had been put through. This was too much, the fate of the world could not rely on one small boy.

But it did.

"Your… your father is coming. In fact... he's already here." Raphael said. She had yet to move her hand from her wound, she was afraid of what would happen if she relieved the pressure.

"My father? Why is that a bad thing?"

"Not your earthly father," Azra said, shaking his head. "Your father who is no longer in Heaven. Satan. He's coming, and he's angry."

Adam looked at the demon in confusion. "And what am I supposed to do about that?" he asked, "fight him?"

Azra looked over at Raphael just in time to see her hit the ground, sweaty hands sliding down her staff as her knees gave out. The staff hit the ground beside her, she allowed it to fade back into non-existence. Even in her own world, her own time, she did not have the strength to keep herself on her feet.

Azra finally seemed to realize what kind of wound it was, seemed to realize who had inflicted it.

Only a demon or Satan himself could have done this to the Archangel.

"Fighting him won't do any good." He rushed to her side, lifted her off the ground and into his lap, but there wasn't much else he could do for her. Not here.

Not anywhere. He couldn't heal an infernal wound, not on an angel.

"Well then what am I supposed to do? She's an angel, isn't she? If she can't survive him, if she can't beat him, what am I supposed to do? I'm just a boy!"

"Reality… reality will listen to you, Adam." Raphael muttered. Azra was surprised she was still awake, with the effort it must have been taking for her to keep time frozen. His mind reeled for a way to help her, but save demonic healing, he had nothing. "The world will be as you say."

"But I'm just a kid!"

"And that's not a bad thing to be, Adam. I was told to make you Hell incarnate. Raphael tried to make you Heaven incarnate. But you're neither of those things. You're human incarnate." 

"You won't have long. I- I have to start time again-" 

Before she had even finished, they were back on the tarmac. The blood seemed to flow faster in the regular world, and now a trail had decided to flow from her nose as well.

It seemed familiar, the red trail bumping over her lips after a miracle. Azra was unsurprised when moments later, a red tear followed, trailing down her cheek.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. "There must be something I can do!" He insisted. 

"Help Adam." 

The Archangel coughed again, spewing blood all down her front and on the demon's leather jacket. 

Then she layed, completely still, in Azra's arms, head leaned up against his arm as she stared at him with swimming eyes.

Adam was looking back at them, fear in his eyes.

"No matter what happens, we're with you, Adam," Azra promised, then turned his full attention to the fading Archangel. 

Another angel could heal her, but that was far from likely to happen. There wouldn't be another angel here on time. And Azra wasn't certain that another angel would heal her, after their stunt with Armageddon.

No one could save her.

Unless- 

Without a clue what else to do, Azra folded his hands and prayed. 

Sobbed out his prayer, words to a being he had not spoken to in six thousand years but now She was his only hope and She had to hear him, She couldn't let Raphael die, surely She wouldn't let this be the end. 

He still heard the confrontation, the bloody showdown that was not so bloody between Father and Son. It was an age-old battle, one that had been fought by many before the Antichrist.

"You're my son?" Lucifer demanded, bearing down on the child. "You're my rebellious son? Come here!"

Adam stared dead ahead, unblinking. The devil approached him, sword in hand, huge leather wings behind him. Satan's eyes were black, his teeth snarled and pointed. 

"You're not my dad!" Adam shouted, walking confidently up to the devil. "Dad's don't wait till you're eleven and then show up to tell you off!"

Lucifer actually looked surprised. "What?" He growled, bearing down faster on the child.

Adam didn't flinch. He stared straight ahead.

"If I'm going to be in trouble with my dad, it won't be with you! It will be with the dad that was there!"

"What did you say to me?" Lucifer demanded, red wings flaring out behind him. 

"You're not my dad." Adam repeated. "You never were."

And it was just like Raphael had said. 

Reality would listen to the Antichrist. Everything would be as the child said.

"No, no no no!" Lucífer's fingers began to crumble to dust. He cried out in rage, although it was no use. In this instance the Antichrist had far more power than Satan ever would, at least upon the Earth.

"You're not my dad." Adam said again, jutting his chin out at the Devil.

Satan howled as he was banished from the Earth, essence dusted away back into the ground, blown away by the wind. 

In his place, a little red car was speeding along the tarmac. 

Adam's father. The not-american not-ambassador. 

"You did it, Adam!"

But Azra's luck would end there. After all, God did not answer the prayers of demons. And while he could sense in angelic presence, it was not here to help.

"Adam!" He screamed. Surely the Antichrist could help. Surely the Antichrist could tell reality to reset and that angel wouldn't be there. 

Adam had just changed reality, changed who his father was. Surely he could change the Archangel's fate. 

"You have to stop your dad he can't see this!" Azra cried. The boy nodded.

Raphael wasn't moving. Her ordinarily crisp white blazer seemed more red than white, Azra's slacks were soaked with the Archangel's blood. It was caked under her fingernails, splattered up her arms from trying to stop it. 

Her hands trembled. It was the only indication that she wasn't gone yet. 

Not yet. 

Her face was white, eyes had flickered closed. Her lips were pale, skin ashen.

Adam rushed over, but stopped when he saw the face of a spirit he had just banished. The spirit who had just left, the spirit Azra had foolishly believed would stay away. "It's too late."

_ I am sorry. _ Azrael declared, walking sorrowfully up to the angel lying pale and motionless in Azra's arms. Her hands had stopped shaking. Blood no longer pulsed but oozed from the hole in her stomach. _ I take no pride in this work. You have done all you can, now she is in my hands. _

"To go where?" Azra couldn't help but ask.

_ I suppose we will have to see. Perhaps nowhere. _

"Why would you not tell her?" Azra demanded, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Why would you not warn her?" 

_ Death comes without a warning. And a warning would not have changed her actions. She would have made the same choices had she known what it would cost her, because she knows what it saved. Now her fate lies between myself and God. _

Azra sobbed, clutching the angel's still hand. 

It was cold. Raphael wasn't supposed to be cold. She was bright and fiery and alive and  _ warm,  _ warm with the joy of life and the Grace of God that despite resenting the Almighty, Azra had marvelled in when it came from Raphael. 

And now she was cold.

"If her fate is left to God, then she is doomed. A demon learns quickly that God has no mercy."

Death did not reply. 


	20. End of all Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [End of all Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyEF7fWOrEc)

_ A maniac messiah _

_ Destruction is his game _

_ A beautiful liar _

_ Love for him is pain _

_ The temples are now burning _

_ Our faith caught up in flames _

_ I need a new direction _

_ Cause I have lost my way _

"Raphael. Raphael, please. Raphael wake up, you can't be gone," Azra whispered, even though he knew Azreal had left moments ago, their work being complete. 

He laid the Archangel on the ground. Her head rolled limply to the side. Her yellow-gold eyes were closed. 

He insistently shook her shoulders, but she didn't stir. She wouldn't stir. He wouldn't be able to wake the angel, not ever again. "Raphael!" 

What was the point in saving the world if it cost him the angel? If it cost him  _ his  _ world? 

Why couldn’t she have agreed to run away with him? They could be safe up in the stars by now, he even would have let her choose which star to run to, which would have led to a couple of centuries visiting Alpha Centuri. The angel loved- had always loved that system. 

If she had agreed to run, she would be flying among the stars, not lying limp on the ground, blood staining every part of her it could. 

The wound had stopped pulsing. A heartbeat was required for blood to pulse. 

But Azra couldn’t make himself give up. “Raphael, please wake up…”

"She's not going to wake up," the Antichrist said softly. "Azreal took her. They’ve both gone now.”

"I know!" Azra snapped, turning on the boy, but the fury only lasted for a second before it faded into grief. "I  _ know." _

He knew that was the truth, even if he couldn’t stand to acknowledge it. How could he accept that Raphael was gone? That she wasn’t going to glare fondly at him the next time he dunked a duck underwater while they threw corn at them? 

"I have to let my dad finish coming. You need to hide…" 

He motioned to the angel. 

Azra supposed from a human perspective, the perspective of someone who didn't have the knowledge of  _ what exactly  _ had felled the angel, or someone who didn't know the Armageddon had just been averted, the… 

The sprawled out  _ body  _ on the ground, laying in a blood of cooling, congealing blood, would cause problems. 

He almost  _ wanted _ it to cause problems. “The humans would be  _ dead _ if it weren’t for her, and I have to pretend that she was never here for their sake?” Azra demanded. 

Adam sighed. “She’s an angel. The humans will expect to take the body, and expect an explanation. Do you fancy telling them that… what did happen to her?”

Azra didn’t answer. 

He snapped his fingers, and was holding a white silk sheet. He didn't know why white silk, but it seemed fitting. 

Pressed his lips to the Archangel's forehead. Of all the human customary greetings, that had always been his favourite. 

He pulled the shroud over his oldest friend, hiding her pale form from view. The blood should have stained the silk, but a firm glare from Azra stopped it. 

Blood would  _ not  _ ruin that shroud. 

He heard the car finish approaching, snapped his fingers again, hoping to keep the Antichrist’s father from noticing the lump on the ground. 

The man got out of the car. "Would someone like to explain to me what  _ exactly  _ is going on?" He demanded. 

At that, Azra burst into tears. 

It was too much, it was all too much. The young woman walked over to him, pressed a hand to his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she began, “you seemed close. My name is Anathema, I’m a witch. Are you an angel, too?”

Azra shook his head. 

“What are you?”

“Not an angel. I haven’t been an angel for a very long time.” 

Anathema nodded, seeming to catch on. “I didn’t know angels could die.”

"Angels can die. So can demons," Azra said quietly. "It’s her brother who did this to her. Lucifer." 

Anathema seemed to have more questions, Azra couldn't blame her, but she bit her tongue. "I didn't even see Lucifer confront her. She was just suddenly on the ground." 

"The Archangels can stop time. Lucifer didn't attack her while time was flowing. If he had-" 

Azra broke off. If Lucifer  _ had  _ attacked Raphael while time was flowing, he could have done something about it. He could have tried to save her. An infernal blade wouldn't have destroyed him. 

“Who… who was she?” Anathema asked, after a suitably long pause. “You said… you said Lucifer was her brother, who does that make her?”

“Her name was Raphael. She was the third angel ever created.”

“Raphael, as in, the Archangel Raphael? The one who healed Tobit?”

“The very same. That was a long week. She was  _ magnificent,  _ I don’t care  _ what _ Gabriel said about her performance.” 

“And God didn’t save her?”

Azra smiled blithely. “God cares a lot less than any human seems to think She does. We’re all just pawns in the  _ Ineffable Plan _ . She doesn’t care what becomes of us.” 

Anathema fell silent. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I can’t even imagine, saving the world and assuring eternal life just to lose…”

“I won’t be living forever,” Azra said confidently. “Beelzebub and Lucifer won’t allow it. She’s just left a little sooner than I will.”   
And he would allow his end to come as swiftly as Hell wanted. 

"I knew I should have kept that favour you owed me," Raphael began, turning to face Azreal. 

The world was still and white and bright around her. 

Her hands were clean, no sign of her own blood that had been caking under her nails and colouring her skin just seconds before. 

_ A favour cannot spare you your fate. _

It wasn't as though Raphael didn't know that. The last favour death had owed her had allowed her to extend someone's life, but only by a few hours. It had not allowed for someone to completely escape the gaze of the Angel of Death. 

She knew what this was. Despite being the opposite of death, the restorer of life, she knew what this would be. She had often wondered if she would see it.

And she knew there was no going back.

This was it. She had fought as hard as she could and it wasn’t enough. “Is Azra alright? Did Adam stop-”

_ Lucifer has been banished back to where he came from. Armageddon will not happen, not today. And the demon you ask about survived.  _

Raphael smiled. “Good.” 

The wound in her stomach no longer hurt, blood and essence no longer stained the floor before her. 

There was only one way that would have happened. Only one way that would have summoned Azreal. 

She was not going to fight. It was undignified, and she knew it was pointless. No one escaped death. 

She held out her hand.

"My fate is yours now," she offered, "I'll go with you willingly. You have finally won our little game, no one will be there to oppose you anymore."

_ And that, Healer, is where the problems begin. What is life without death? What is death without life? How can one of us exist without the other to keep us at bay? _

Raphael scoffed. "You won’t be alone. I'm sure God will appoint you a new...  _ companion _ . One of my healers, perhaps. I could name a few who would do a good job in my place."

Death couldn't smile, not with a face of decayed bone, not with the absence of eyes, the absence of a passage to the soul.

But yet Raphael still could have sworn they were smiling. _ You truly believe you can so easily be replaced? _

"It would have happened long, long ago, if it wasn’t for Gabriel’s meddling where he didn’t bloody belong. These are the rules of the game. The rules of the universe. My life is out of my hands, God knows I couldn’t hold onto it, and it now rests entirely in yours. I trust you shall do what you must with it."

_ You believe God has no claim to your life? _

"I have no soul. Nothing to continue on without me. And I suspect that God wants nothing to do with my life."

God would have cast her from Her gaze long, long ago, if it hadn't been for her brother. Why would God speak to reclaim her now? She hadn't been worth saving, not by herself, even then. What would make her worth saving now? What would possibly make the Almighty want to spare her from her fate?

_ Perhaps you are right. But that does indeed place your fate entirely in my hands. Heaven nor Hell have a say. _ Azreal mused.

"And I suppose I should be happy about that," Raphael said, "I have my fair share of enemies both upstairs  _ and _ down. Can’t imagine Lucifer’s gonna put in a good word for me."

_ And if your fate is in my hands, and what becomes of you is up to me. I do not have to do anything to you, if I do not wish to. _

"And what are you saying Azrael?" Raphael asked, raising an eyebrow. She crossed her arms over her chest. 

_ I am saying that if life ends, then so does death. At last, I am saying this cannot be your end. So long as the world continues, so must you. Balance must be maintained.  _

"I'm not following, Azreal. We both know you have a job to do. I’ll get swapped out for another angel, nice as you please, and your game continues, round two."

_ You needn't understand, little healer. Just know that this is the first and final time in my watch that I shall turn a blind eye, as it is the first and final time I will need to. You are free to go. _

"I can't, even if I believed you would let me go. My corporation and essence are too ruined to continue," Raphael said sadly. She wanted to jump all over the chance to go back, take the chance before Death regretted it. 

But going back would just land her back here. Her corporation wouldn’t hold her, and her essence was too damaged to survive. 

_ All you needed to fix that is a little bit of strength. I think you shall find you may borrow some from a close friend of yours. I am sure that the demon whom you asked after would do anything to help. I do remember who he is, Raphael. Aziraphale would have agreed in a heartbeat. _

"He's not Aziraphale anymore." 

_ I suspect he'll still agree.  _

"Why would you do this for me?" Raphael found herself asking.

Death contemplated her in a strange way. _ Who ever said I was doing this for you? _

Raphael suppose she hadn't thought of that. Perhaps death truly could not exist without life. Perhaps this was not mercy, but self-preservation.

Regardless of what it was, Raphael was just relieved to have it. 

_ I think that you shall find that you owe me another favour. I shall expect to call upon it one day. _

"Of course Azrael." Raphael agreed blindly. "Anything you ask of me, it will be yours. Even something… blasphemous."

_ And we keep this arrangement between the two of us. I wouldn't want Heaven or Hell finding out that I had ignored the fate of an Archangel. _

"Of course." 

_ Close your eyes, Raphael. Close your eyes and wake up.  _

Without her even trying, her eyes closed. 

When she opened them again, she could feel the tarmac against her back, the blood caked on her skin and the wound in her stomach again, pulsing with every frantic beat of her heart. 

She didn't have much time. She threw a hand up, looking for Azra and finding a silk shroud. 

How long had it been? 

She threw the sheet off and was immediately yanked off the ground and into someone's arms, presumably Azra's. "Raphael! You were-" 

The wound was aching. She was starting to feel faint again. "Hand!" She snapped, forcing her eyes open to see the demon staring down at her.

Azra looked confused, Raphael reached for his hand. 

Azra was quick to interlock their fingers, and Raphael immediately pulled from Azra's strength to heal the wound in her stomach, stop herself crumbling away. She still had no strength of her own.

The demon didn't protest. He clutched her hand tightly, letting his strength seep into her and warm her from the chill that had settled deep into her bones. 

Finally, when the wound had closed and she only felt dizzy instead of about to slip away, Raphael moved her hand from the formerly gaping hole. 

There was a large, pocked scar in its place. 

Azra didn't let go of her hand. He held it up to his lips. "What happened? I thought- you were- you were  _ dead!" _

His voice was rough, Raphael realized he'd been crying. She reached up with a shaking hand to brush one of the tears away.

But she had sworn her secrecy. She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm okay now, thanks to you. Thank you." 

"Why didn't you say I could do that before?" Azra demanded, suddenly animated and almost angry. "You think I'm going to deny you the strength you need to save your  _ life  _ just because it's mine? You can have as much as you need, fuck, angel, you can have it  _ all."  _

"I wasn't thinking clearly…" Raphael admitted, though her eyes widened as she tried to swallow the implications of what Azra had just said. 

She struggled to sit up, when she eventually managed to, she cracked her head on Azra's chin. 

"Ow!" 

"Sorry." 

"So I see God does have some mercy," a young woman remarked, standing over Azra's shoulder. "I'm glad it's worked out." 

"God had nothing to do with this," Raphael said quietly. 

God had been content to let her die. So had all of Heaven. No one had come to save her. Someone  _ must  _ have known what happened, and no one had come down to help. 

She had known when she'd confronted Gabriel what ties she was cutting. 

But it was only sinking in  _ now.  _

She was  _ alone.  _ Heaven didn't  _ care  _ what became of her. 

The thought left her shaking. Azra wrapped both arms around her, letting her lean on his chest. "It's alright. You're alright now," he murmured, half to reassure her and half to reassure himself. "I don't know how, but you're safe now." 

She nodded, felt tears slip down her cheeks. "We should go." 

The others around them nodded. 

The children had parents to return to, Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell had to get back to Soho, and the two others Raphael didn't really recognize probably had somewhere to go. 

And she had to get back… somewhere. And shower and rest. 

"I suppose we'll have to miracle ourselves a ride, won't we? I'll get a bus to drop me off at the bookshop and-" 

"Bookshop burned down, remember?" Raphael said quietly. "You can stay at my flat. I have something for you. And I… I could use some company." 

Azra didn't protest. He helped Raphael to her feet. She was shaky, but managed to stand with his support. 

"What about the items? The things the Horsemen had?" The woman asked. 

"I'm sure someone will come to collect them soon. I suppose we have to stay, then, Azra-"

"No no, I think the night-of-the-living-dead angel can go, and we'll make sure they get picked up!" A young man piped up. 

"She's not a zombie, Newt, I would know. She's just the same as she was before. At least, her aura is. But he  _ is  _ right. We'll make sure they wind up in good hands. You two go home."

She didn't have to tell Raphael twice. 


	21. Origin of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Origin of Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71pB-rOEqMk)

_ I want your love don't try and stop me _

_ Can't get enough, still hanging on me _

_ Your guilty heart, don't let it break you _

_ And if you pray well no one's gonna save you _

_ Like everyone that you fear and everything you hold dear _

_ Even the book in your pocket _

_ You are the sun and the light, you are the freedom I fight _

_ God will do nothing to stop it _

_ The origin is you _

_ You're the origin of love _

"The bus says Oxfordshire." Raphael said quietly from where they were leaned against Azra’s shoulder. 

They sat on a bench that was definitely not a bus stop, but yet a bus was pulling up anyways, brakes squealing as it came to a stop. 

“Best I could do. The driver will still go to London, but he won’t have a clue why,” Azra explained, carefully helping the angel climb onto the bus. Their steps were shaky and uncertain, and Azra was almost positive they would fall before reaching a seat. 

As it was, he was wrong, but only because Raphael collapsed into their seat. Azra sat down next to them, watching in concern as they rested their head against the cold glass of the window. 

"How are you feeling?" Azra asked. 

Raphael gave him a scathing look. "Like death." 

That was pretty obvious. 

"He shouldn't have gotten the better of me. I should have known what Lucifer would pull," they murmured. Rested a hand against the scar in their stomach. "I knew what he had on me, I know what he's like I've known him since I was created!"

Azra frowned, rested a hand against Raphael's shoulder. "Why are you beating yourself up, Raphael? You told Adam how to defeat your brother!" 

"He shouldn't have gotten the better of me. I nearly  _ died  _ and what did we actually accomplish? We raised the wrong child, barely figured out where Armageddon would start and-"

"You convinced Gabriel to stop the war." 

"And brought Lucifer down on us." 

"But it all turned out in the end. Imagine the mess this could have been if we had been at all competent!" 

"We should have done better." 

Azra really wasn't sure why Raphael was so insistent on them having failed so badly. Armageddon hadn't happened. The world was saved, Heaven and Hell were not raging their war, and even the strange humans had managed to get out okay. It was all looking pretty good.

But the Archangel seem determined to beat themselves up. To only see their downfalls of the day. 

Which was ridiculous.

They had gone up against Lucifer. The first of the fallen, leader of the damned, most powerful demon there was. The one fated to fight Michael at the end of it all.

Raphael was not fated to fight Lucifer. They were made of softer things, and it was never their responsibility. They were to heal, possibly strike down a few lesser demons, but not to take on the Lord of Hell.

To expect them to come out the winner, the victor, the survivor of that encounter was ludacris.

Azra was just grateful that someone, something that allowed them to stay. He knew the Archangel should be dead.

And here they were, sitting beside him on the bus, mad that the Lord of Hell had gotten the better of them.

"How do you know we could have done better?" Azra asked. "You don't know the Ineffable Plan, do you? Perhaps our failure was in the Ineffable Plan, perhaps your loss to Lucifer was in it. Perhaps whatever deal you made with who knows who to still be here was in it. You never read the Ineffable Plan, I didn't even know you had a copy until today, you don't know what it says. Perhaps this was what you were supposed to do all along."

"Do you really believe that?"

If he was being honest, Azra really didn't give a hoot about the Ineffable Plan. But he could tell this was important to Raphael. he could tell that if there was one thing that was going to reassure them, it was this.

They could see all the horrors of Heaven. But they still believed they had to live up to it. They still didn't know how much they had surpassed the expectations, and the righteousness of Heaven. They still believed in a golden standard to hold themselves to.

So he lied. "Of course I do. I always believe you've done the right thing. You're an angel, I don't think you can do the wrong thing."

"I'm absolutely certain that I can."

It was the most sure about something Azra had heard them sound in a long time.

  
  


“Azra, this is my own house and I am not a blushing bride, you don’t have to carry me inside!” Raphael complained. 

“Nonsense. You can say what you like, but you just about died today! You’ll excuse me if I feel the need to look after you a bit!” Azra snapped in return, pushing the door to Raphael’s apartment open and carrying them inside. 

“This is just being annoying, Azra. I’m perfectly able to walk by myself!” Raphael said, blowing a strand of their hair out of their face. 

"Prove it," Azra invited, placed their feet on the ground without any more argument. 

He was a smug bastard. After five shaky steps, Raphael conceded defeat and let Azra resume carrying her. "Where are you taking me, anyways?" 

"Where do you think?" 

Raphael stared up at him. "Which way am I supposed to take that?" 

Azra pretended to look scandalized. "You have quite the filthy imagination, for an Archangel. I'm taking you to your bathroom for a bath, because you're covered in blood, Raphael. Or did you forget that?" 

Raphael looked down at their hands and stomach. "I had forgotten, a little. The bus driver didn't seem to notice." 

Azra sighed. "The bus driver did not notice because I made him not notice. You look like you murdered someone. That's not exactly something people won't remark on. Now where is your bloody bathroom?" 

"Down the hall and to the right," Raphael gestured towards the hall in question. "Mind the clutter." 

"I'm more than used to your clutter, Raphael. Seriously, this house is a mess. Do you ever clean it up?" 

"No." 

Azra sighed and hopped his way across Raphael's living room, down the hall and into the room on the right. 

The bathroom was no exception to the mess. It was off-white with a yellow light bulb, the counter was full of all sorts of products, a hairbrush, curlers that he was pretty sure that Raphael hadn't used since they had been pretending to be Warlock's nanny, hairspray and gels and hair ties scattered all around, a toothbrush and toothpaste, something Azra had never considered using and by consequence didn't have to. 

And there were things that didn't seem to belong in the bathroom, too. Plants and mandates from Heaven and mugs and even a bowl, some of the scarce evidence that Raphael did occasionally eat, when the mood struck them. 

Azra gave some papers a push, knocked a hat on the floor and cleared some space for Raphael to sit on the counter. "Your bathtub had better not be full of things, too."

The angel leaned back against the cold glass of the mirror. "It's not. Haven't used it in about twenty years, but it's not full of stuff." 

"What do you have against relaxing, Raphael?" 

"I haven't bathed or showered since I had to explain to Gabriel what a bath was and why in Heaven's name I was taking one when he showed up." 

Azra couldn't really admonish them for that. He snapped his fingers, and the caked dust in the tub vanished. He twisted the knobs, and after some sputtering, water poured from the faucet. 

"I don't need to take a bath. I could just miracle the blood away." 

"If you try to perform a miracle, I'm breaking both your thumbs. You need to lay off the magic powers for now," Azra ordered. He plugged the tub and snapped his fingers. 

Immediately, the water began to foam with bubbles. 

He looked at Raphael. "Well, go on, no one bathes in their clothes! Unless you'd like  _ me  _ to get them off for you?" 

Raphael rolled their eyes. "Humans stopped bathing in front of each other when bathhouses went out of style." 

"Lucky we're not humans. Come on," Azra said impatiently. 

Raphael sighed and hiked their foot up to work on untying their shoe, immediately squeaked in pain and almost toppled off the counter and into the toilet. Azra barely managed to catch them. 

"It's not going to be a choice, if you keep hurting yourself, I'm going to have to get them off myself."

Raphael huffed and tugged their shoe off, threw it across the bathroom, and did the same with the other. 

They shrugged off their badly stained jacket and then slid off the counter. "Do you have to watch? I'm taking a bath, not putting on a damned show, Azra." 

Azra laughed and turned away until he could hear that the angel was in the tub. "My apologies for wanting to look after you after you bled out in my arms."

They didn't have a comment for that. They just stared at the pocked scar in their stomach, barely visible past the bubbles. There was dried brown blood caking their skin, slowly sluicing off and turning the water red. 

They sat in silence for a while, while the angel scrubbed the blood from under their fingernails. 

Then they looked back up at him. "Get in here, you could use a scrub too. And you can help me wash my back, I'm sticky all over." 

Before Azra had stepped in the tub, it most definitely wasn't big enough for two people, but that was what miracles were for. 

"You look like you're half-dead, Raphael," he remarked, summoning a bottle of shampoo and pouring some into his hands. "Come here, you've got blood in your hair." 

They opened their mouth to protest, but one stern look from Azra meant they shifted over and leaned against his chest. 

Azra carefully worked the soap into their scalp, watching the bubbles go pink. 

The water was red by the time he was satisfied that the last of the blood was scrubbed off of the angel's skin. The water would have long gone cold if it weren't for a couple of miracles to keep it piping hot. The bubbles eventually turned to film. Raphael was still laid out against his chest, up to their chin in hot water, red hair fanned out in the water around them. 

Azra wrapped both arms around their middle, kissed the top of their head. 

To his surprise, the angel moved away.

"Raphael?"

"I can't do this to you," they whispered, tears choking up their voice. "It's not fair. There's too much you don't know." 

They turned around, back pressed up against the opposite end of the bath, buried their face in their hands.

Azra cupped their chin, made their eyes meet his. "Then for right now, pretend I know. Who's ever heard of being fair to a demon?" 

He expected resistance. What he was suggesting was morally bankrupt at best. He knew he should insist on learning what it was that Raphael hadn't told him, but he just couldn't bring himself to care right now. Not when there was such a tempting alternative. 

Raphael shook their head, blinked their tears down their cheeks. "I can't." 

"Then tell me what's wrong." 

"I can't." 

"Raphael, you have to give me an option here." 

"I knew you," they confessed. Buried their face back in their hands and sobbed. "I knew you before the Fall and I couldn't tell you. I  _ can't  _ tell you about it it's not fair and-" 

"Were we friends then, too?" Azra asked.

Raphael sighed. "It doesn't matter. Not really."

"We weren't, were we. That's why you were so distant at first if we had been friends you wouldn't have been distant, and you can't get passed it-"

"Friends?" Raphael laughed. "Azra, we were far more than friends. But you don't remember, so I can't force it on you. And Gabriel made it very clear that was to be through."

"What were we, then?"

"We were the origin of  _ love. _ God took that  _ shit  _ She sent them down in the Garden from  _ us _ , Aziraphale. She didn't know what She was going to give them for companionship, She was considering something like what the Archangels formed and then She saw  _ us,  _ Azra," Raphael whispered. 

Azra fell silent. For too long, he knew, but he needed to process what he had been told. 

Raphael had  _ known  _ him. And they had sat on that fact for six thousand years, spent six thousand years watching the angel they had fallen in love with become the demon sitting before them, letting their feelings be trampled on because Azra didn't remember and he wanted to be mad because they should have told him but they had sat and suffered in the knowledge by themselves for  _ six thousand years  _ and he couldn't bring himself to be mad. 

Raphael sniffled, wiped their nose. They didn't dare to speak, but Azra suspected there was something on the tip of their tongue. 

"Raphael?" 

"I'm sorry!" Their breath hitched and they sobbed again. "I'm so so sorry I didn't know how to tell you and- and I was going to just avoid you but- but I  _ couldn't.  _ Not when you were exactly the same as you had always been and-" 

Azra pressed a finger to their lips. "It's okay, Raphael. You didn't do anything wrong," he promised. 

"I tried to make myself let go, you didn't remember and it wasn't fair to you but- but you just kept making me fall in love all over again, every time I thought I had done it you came back and…" Raphael breathed, flopping onto his shoulder. 

"That's why you took everything I said so personally. That's  _ why _ you smote me in Egypt. Dear Satan, Raphael, I'm- you lived with this for six  _ thousand  _ years, how did you do it?" 

Raphael sniffled again. "I don't want to talk about that right now. I never wanted to tell you I-" 

"You didn't do anything wrong, Raphael," Azra repeated. "You may remember me from Heaven, but I fell for you  _ here  _ and it sounds as though you did the same." 

"You Fell because I didn't." Raphael said in a voice so small Azra almost had to ask them to repeat, which he was sure Raphael couldn't bring themselves to do. "If Gabriel had left me to the Metatron then you would have been spared this suffering. You don't know how many times I've  _ prayed  _ that they would let me Fall for you."

"What do you mean, Raphael? Surely you never came close to falling. I know Gabriel was hinting at something, but surely I must have misunderstood..."

Raphael let out a deep sigh as they carefully rang their hair out and stood to get out of the tub. “Clearly, I have another important thing to start telling you, but I don’t think I can get through it all tonight…”

“Well then maybe just start.”

_ Heaven  _

"I'm going to get my answers," Raphael said stubbornly. "I'll be fine. The Almighty wouldn't do anything to me for asking questions. After all, they'll only strengthen my faith in Her if She answers them!" 

"Are you  _ sure  _ this is a good idea? Maybe I could go with you! Surely you could use some company?" Aziraphale offered. 

"I don't need any company. I promise I'll tell you her answers, this is something I have to do myself. I can't sit without knowing any longer." 

"That's not a reason to do this by yourself. I'm worried about you!" 

"I realize that, and really, it's sweet, but you have nothing to worry about. Everything will work out fine. I'm going to be fine. More than fine! I'll know why Lucifer fell and why I can't do a bloody miracle without things getting- well, bloody." 

Aziraphale still seemed fretful. "You promise you'll come and see me the moment it's done?" 

Raphael grinned. "Heaven and Earth couldn't stop me. I'll meet you in the Garden," he promised, pressed his lips to the principality's. "You won't even know I was gone."

"Do be careful, dear. You know the Almighty is a bit… tetchy since the war. I'm stunned she's agreed to speak to you at all!" Aziraphale declared. 

"Me too." 

Raphael didn't bother to mention the fact that he had learned when the Almighty was hiding and was planning on showing up uninvited. If God wouldn't agree to see anyone, he would just make Her see him anyways. 

"I'll see you soon." He gave Aziraphale another kiss, stroked her thumb along his cheek, and got to his feet. 

The walk down the cool marble hallways was different this time. Raphsel's footsteps seemed louder, he tingled with  _ purpose  _ this time. 

He was not going to be anyone's pawn anymore. From now on, she was going to know the  _ reason  _ for something before she did it. Surely that wasn't so much to ask. 

Mother would be willing to indulge her. 

God rarely denied her children anything. 

This would be fine. 

He walked along the hallway, towards the room he knew the Almighty was waiting in. She had retreated there after the war, and She hadn't reemerged. 

He burst the door open. It slammed into the wall behind it. 

**Raphael?**

"Hello, Mother. I think we have some things to discuss." He declared. "You've been hiding in here for far too long while Heaven goes to  _ shit  _ outside these doors, and it's high time we get some explanations. You can't just leave us after a war like that! Our brother just led a  _ rebellion  _ against you and you won't even talk to us anymore!" 

The Almighty stared at him. 

"So I have some questions for you."

**You always have so many questions.**

Raphael should have heard the dangerous tone in Her voice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So cool news, in cutting a discussion I didn't like in this chapter anyways, I've made it so that the overlapping chapters no longer overlap! Primarily because this chapter wasn't going to exist! But now it does! So anyways, that means the angsty convo and flashback I promised to some voters are here, and the nsfw chapter is next. I don't know why I put angsty intimate conversations in bathtubs but I like to, and I realized Raphael at the end of the last chapter was pretty fucking gross and needed a bath lol. SO IN SHORT thanks to those who voted but you now get the best of both worlds! There will be a rating change next chapter ;)


	22. Angel Of Small Death and The Codeine Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Angel Of Small Death and The Codeine Scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bmp4QWzHak)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, I think I proofread this 12 times but I also changed someone's pronouns halfway through so if you see a "she" or "her" just ignore it, it's probably still shit, but you know the drill with this content. Just read and move on unless you're extremely compelled to tell me that my first attempt at publishing NSFW doesn't suck dick (pun intended)  
> For those uninterested in reading what is essentially just 100% porn, go ahead and skip to the end where I will tell you the approximately 2 plot points that happens in here

_And lease this confusion, I'll wander the concrete_

_Wonder if better now having survived_

_Jarring of judgement and reasons defeat_

_The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth I'm alive_

_With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean_

_She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene_

_With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean_

_She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene_

"Come on into the living room, Azra, let me just pick some things up…" Raphael threw a couple of flowerpots and stacks of paper onto a shelf near the entrance to their cluttered living room, beckoned the demon inside.

They had a pair of pyjamas that Azra had miracled up when they had yet again almost fallen over in the bathroom while trying to reach a robe, but here they were, hopping around their living room. 

Azra followed them in, raking his gaze across the floor. 

It was as messy as ever, with soil and papers and bits of things Azra didn't recognize strewn across the floor, and piles of things he wasn't convinced Raphael even knew what they were anymore lined up against the walls.

"Raphael, really, you should take it easy you've just been, well, discorporated once and killed once in the last day! I would feel better if you would sit down, dear. You almost fell into the toilet not two hours ago."

Raphael ignored him, stubbornly trying to prove that they were fine, despite their recent health issues. 

"You don't sleep, right? Dunno why I asked, I know I'm right. Always liked some shut-eye, me, but I have something you could read overnight, if I just-" Raphael hopped over one stack of papers and began rummaging through another, knocking other piles over as they did so. "I know it was here just the other day, I considered giving it a read…"

"Raphael, you should get more rest. _Please_ get more rest." Azra pleaded. "You lost a lot of blood and you couldn't even go get your own pyjamas!"

They ignored him and searched for a few minutes before standing up with a manuscript that was clearly very old. "Shakespeare's last play," they said triumphantly, holding it out to the demon. "Well, unless he still writes in Hell, given that I know he isn't one of ours. Should have been, but he's not. Most artists aren't."

Azra gaped at the angel, slowly taking the stack of papers from their hands. "You've had this since the seventeenth century and didn't tell me?" 

"I should have given it to you before now, given my eyes not being built for reading and all… I should go get some sleep." 

But they didn't walk out of the main room, and didn't retreat to their bed. 

"Read me the prophecy again?" Raphael said, sprawling out on their white leather couch. "Agnes Nutter's final words for us."

 _"When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre."_ Azra said obligingly. 

"What do you think it means?" They asked, tipping their head over the arm of the couch to look at him. 

"We'll come back to it after you get some sleep. Besides, if _I_ don't figure it out, I could be facing the end of my existence. I'm sure you'll be fine, you're an archangel." 

"And you figure I'll just be fine with that, after what I told you? You think I'll just be fine with losing you?" Raphael’s voice was hushed, but more intense than Azra had ever heard before. They sat up and stared at him with terrified golden eyes. They shook their head grimly. "And if Gabriel is smart, he'll destroy me before anything else can happen. We're both facing the end of the line. You know what happened at the airbase, you heard it. You _helped_ me. And if they didn't want me dead, they would have sent help."

"I prayed for help," Azra admitted. 

Raphael smiled sadly. "Thank you." 

There was nothing else to say. They both knew Heaven never would have answered him, even if someone had wanted to save the angel.

Azra fell silent. "Perhaps something will come to us overnight. You should get some rest, you're dead on your feet. I know whatever Satan said to you, it took something out of you. Not to mention he _stabbed_ you. And you _stopped time!"_

"No one wants a reunion with the brother who caused the biggest war ever known," Raphael said sadly, but Azra suspected there was more to it than just that. 

They still didn't stand up from the couch. Azra went and sat beside them. 

"So. You can't read, is that it? Did you want me to read this to you? Perhaps it would get you to relax, and you could get some sleep." 

"Not that one," Raphael said softly. "You enjoy that one yourself, first."

Azra set the manuscript down on Raphael's cluttered coffee table. "Then you pick another." 

"Azra, I'm fine. I'll sleep once I think of something." 

"You'll sleep now, dear, or you'll have nothing left to think of something with. You get to bed, I'll be right there with a book." 

Raphael seemed to realize that arguing wasn't getting them anywhere. They stood up and walked towards their bedroom, freezing upon entering the office. "Azra? Why are there two demon puddles on my floor?" they asked, snapping their fingers and drying them up. 

Immediately, they fell into the doorframe. "No miracles!" Azra scolded, rushing over to help them back up. Blood seeped out the corner of their eye, they wiped it away angrily. "Hastur and Ligur dropped by. Why do you water your plants with Holy Water?" 

"I had extra when I made it for you, and you know Holy Water can't get diluted. My plant mister seemed like something you wouldn't mess with," Raphael said. "Clearly I was wrong." 

"I suppose you were, dear, now into bed with you!" 

Raphael rolled their eyes and walked into their room with Azra's help, laid themselves carefully out over the bed. 

Azra summoned one of his own books into his hand, one that he and the angel had helped write, and sat down in a chair he was fairly sure Raphael had miracled into existence just before he stepped in the room. 

"You can sit up here, if you don't like the chair," they tapped their hand against the smooth sheets. "I don't mind sharing." 

Azra didn't bother to mention the implications of what they said. They were an angel, they probably wouldn't get it. 

He sat in the plush black chair Raphael had made for him, flipped open the book and began reading. 

_"Two households, both alike in dignity,_

_In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,_

_From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,_

_Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean._

_From forth the fatal loins of these two foes_

_A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;_

_Whole misadventured piteous overthrows_

_Do with their death bury their parents' strife,"_ he commenced. 

Raphael was smiling softly. "I think this one is better after you ruined it," they admitted. 

"Flatterer. Raphael, am I the reason you wanted this play written?"

Raphael just motioned for him to continue. 

He hadn't gotten far into Act 1, the Prince was yet again lecturing the Capulets and Montagues when he sensed something had changed. First he glanced to the angel, to see if they had fallen asleep, but their yellow-gold eyes were fixed intently on him. 

There was something new in their gaze, something that made Azra set the book to the side.

They simply continued to stare at him. 

He resumed reading out loud until a hand plucked the book from his own and pulled him forwards by his lapels, jerking him out of the chair and sprawling across the bed with strength he had not expected from the angel. 

There, fists still buried in the leather flaps of his coat, they raised their gaze back to his, without needing to voice words to have him hear their wordless plea. He had so often wondered if he imagined their affection for him, but he needn't wonder any longer. It was written so plainly across their features, spelled out in the look in their eyes. 

He leaned in and kissed them, and they pulled him even closer, closer than he had thought possible, closer than he had ever thought he would be to an ethereal being, to a being of pure light and life and joy. But he knew he couldn't be imagining this, as even his own imagination dared not play with his emotions like this. 

Raphael looped a leg around one of Azra's knees, pushed his leather coat off his shoulders. 

"Raph. Dear, what are you doing?" 

"Something I should have done _centuries_ ago," the angel replied, staring up at him. "For God's sake Azra we could _die_ tomorrow and the world almost ended and I'm not going to leave anything for later anymore. I've had six thousand years and dying with regrets would be stupid. And before tonight, I didn't have a choice but now…"

Azra had to admit that he liked the sound of that. He helped Raphael push off his jacket, pressed kisses down from the corner of their mouth to their collarbone.

They smelled of earth and peppermint and coffee, their freckles seemed to sparkle in the warm light of the setting sun. Their head tipped back to let his lips explore the expanse of speckled skin before him. "Azra." 

The demon looked back up at them, but they just pulled him back up for another kiss, intense and full of forked tongue. He complied willingly, fingers playing with the buttons of their soft pink pyjama top until they squeezed both his hands and guided them to undoing the first one, letting it fall open and the dying sun cast its golden glow on the soft skin it exposed. They pulled his tie off as he gently worked down the line of buttons, pushed their shirt off their shoulders. "You look lovely."

"And I don't with my clothes on?" they breathed, fingers flying to unbutton his waistcoat and dress shirt. They wanted to just give them a sharp pull, but Azra would never forgive them if they pulled the buttons off his clothes. 

So they worked their way down, one antique button at a time, pushing the waistcoat off his shoulders and starting on the pearlescent buttons of his purple dress shirt.

"Of course you do. How long has it been since you… made an effort?"

Azra glanced down suggestively. Raphael may have blushed a little.

"Since the last time I had to do a miracle in a bathhouse," they admitted. 

"Have a preference?" 

"If you work on getting rid of this nonsense," they gave their hips a wiggle that had to be boneless, "maybe you'll find out." 

Clearly, the angel had decided that they had waited six thousand years to do this, and they didn't feel like waiting for a second longer. It wasn't like Azra could protest. He peppered kisses down the length of their torso, 

He gripped the drawstring of the white pants he had handed her in his teeth, tugged the bow apart and hooked them off her hips. They kicked their feet until they were all the way off and heaped in a pile on the floor. 

"That was so not fair, Azra," they scolded, tugged him back up to kiss him again, tongue deep in his mouth within seconds. They finished with his shirt, his hand played in their fire-red hair. His fingers tweaked a nipple and he revelled in the way they gasped against his lips.

"What, are you going to do something about it?" Azra asked. 

Raphael didn't answer, they just sat them up and settled themselves into his lap. Azra groaned, wriggled his hips, trying to get some relief through friction. One hand played in Raphael's long red hair, and the other was quickly grabbed from what it was doing and guided much lower. 

Azra was only too happy to comply. He could feel the heat pulsing off them through all that remained of their clothes, he pushed his fingers up against their crotch and they writhed in his lap, fingernails digging into his back. 

With a reaction like that, he couldn't help but repeat. The angel leaned into his touch, pressing themselves harder against his fingers. The thin layer of fabric between his fingers and them was soaked, Azra massaged his fingers into it and drew a moan from the angel. 

Did they _know_ how good they sounded when they made that noise? They had to be doing it on purpose.

"Would work better without something in the way," Azra remarked. 

"So get rid of it," Raphael replied, voice hoarse in his ear. 

Azra grinned and gently pushed the angel back down onto the sheets. The angel would no longer lie still, which didn't make it easy to remove the last of their clothes, even when they lifted their hips from the mattress for him to slide them off. 

Once he had, he couldn't help but stare. "Satan, you are a _vision."_ He breathed. 

Raphael's smile invited him to do more than just look, but they had something to say about his expression. "No more using my brother's name. I don't want to think of anyone but you," they breathed into his ear, drawing their forked tongue along the edge before pushing it inside. As they drew back, they pulled his earlobe with their slightly pointed teeth.

Azra didn't need encouraging to forget about all else but the angel splayed out on the bed before him, skin flushed and warm, heat pulsing off them in waves and ginger curls fanned out around their head like a halo. "I just… you're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. It's a wonder God made more angels after achieving perfection with you," he breathed.

"'M not perfect. 'Sides, that's blasphemous."

"You _are,_ and blasphemy is my job. Now hush and let me explore." 

Raphael nodded, gestured for him to do so.

For the time being, he remained at eye level and allowed his fingers to do the exploring, sliding back down the taut muscles of their stomach, which quivered under his touch, to a patch of coarse hair he was fairly sure humans would describe as 'the carpet matching the drapes.'

And there, he hesitated. "Are you sure about this?" He asked, looking down at the angel. 

They took a deep breath, and nodded. "Are you? You don't have to be. We can stop here, I'll get those pyjamas you made me and-" 

"Dearest, you haven't a clue how long I've waited for this," he breathed, and pushed his fingers further down, let his finger slide between their lips, just to tease. 

"Azra…" Raphael's voice was tight. He was teasing and he knew it, but it didn't stop him from continuing, with feather-light touches and a smirk on his face. 

"Azra!"

"Yes, I know, dear," he promised, pushing a little harder, careful to stay loving and gentle. They were an angel, he could not fathom being rough with them, it felt like it would be a crime, although that thought did make him want to try later. However for tonight, he fully intended to watch them come apart piece by celestial piece, and there was no need to rush. Their fingers curled into his hair, blunt nails scraping his skull.

He had no intentions of speeding up. He continued to tease with gentle touches, never dipping any further than he had the first time and driving the angel absolutely mad.

"Please, Azra," the angel gasped, tipping their head back. "More, please! You won't break me!"

"No, but I plan to take you apart. Piece by bloody piece," he growled.

"Oh, _please."_

And who was Azra to argue with the archangel _begging_ him for his attention? _Begging_ him to continue? 

He let his tongue trail their skin as he lowered his head back down, leaving a trail from their throat to their navel. Their breathing sped with anticipation.

Carefully, he licked up the insides of their thighs, admiring the speckled skin he normally didn't get to see, pressed kisses to the juncture of their hips, did everything but touch them where they wanted it.

They didn't complain, to his surprise. They allowed him his time to explore, licking and kissing and tasting every bit of exposed skin.

When he had explored all he could, he flicked his tongue against their labia, and their hand clenched in his hair as their back arched. "Again. Don't stop," they gasped, and it wasn't like Azra was going to deny them, wetting tongue in his mouth before lapping gently up their crotch, causing them to writhe beneath him. He used one hand to hold their hip steady, lest he get treated to their pelvis slamming into his chin when they moved, glanced upwards to make sure that was okay. 

Raphael gave him the slightest nod, and the demon returned to his task.

But he wasn't going to speed up. He had a plan now, a plan to watch this creature fall apart beneath him and none of it required speed. He kept up what was very nearly teasing, drawing his tongue closer and closer to their opening. 

"Azra…" they whined, foot knocking into the back of his shoulder. 

"You're so good, Raphael, and I promise this will be worth your while."

He looked up at them with a slight grin on his face. "You taste _divine,"_ he praised before returning to the task at hand. 

Raphael let out a moan, clenched her toes.

When he was finally satisfied that he had driven Raphael as crazy as he could with this not-quite-enough approximation of what they so clearly wanted from them, he licked up their crotch again, allowed his tongue to slip between the folds and brush their clit.

The effect was instantaneous. Raphael moaned in a way Azra had never heard before. 

Curious, Azra flicked his tongue in the same way, to see if he could draw the same reaction.

He could.

"Keep going!" they said urgently when he looked up to check on them, their cheeks flushed and eyes bright. "Please, in the name of all things Holy, don't stop! I swear to you, this is what I want, so do it." 

It wasn't an order Azra was reluctant to follow. He believed that losing himself between the angel's legs would be one of the easiest things he had ever done as he brought his hand up to spread them open and drew his tongue along the beautiful expanse before him, pausing to suckle at their clit and draw a punched-out moan from the angel. Their back arched and nails dug into his scalp. Their every sensation was etched into their face 

But it didn't mean Azra couldn't be a bastard about it. "Was that good?" He asked, his breath making them shiver at the heat as he drew back to speak.

"Fuck- Azra- Good Lord-"

Azra frowned. "I won't bring your brother into this if you leave your mother out, got it?" 

The demon was convinced Raphael would have agreed to anything at that moment. They nodded vigorously, and Azra returned to his previous task, revelling in the way the angel writhed beneath him, the sounds of their gasps and moans getting louder the more he worked them up. With each flick of his tongue, the angel jerked beneath him, fingers tightening in his hair.

There was something magic about having the archangel splayed out like this, helpless and open and _trusting_ as he worked his mouth around the most sensitive parts of them.

He wasn't sure he would trust them to the same task, but only because of their pointed teeth.

Then again, the thought of the angel's hot mouth around his cock made him think that he would be fine with it. More than fine.

"Azra..." 

"Are you going to ask me for what you want, or am I to guess?" Azra asked innocently. 

Raphael only bothered to hiss one word in return, voice low and rough and pleading. _"More."_

"Isn't patience a virtue, angel?" Azra asked, swirling his tongue around their clit. Raphael squirmed against the smooth ivory sheets, too breathless to make a noise. 

Azra supposed that perhaps he was being a tease. He hummed at the thought, the angel's heel tapped his shoulders as their legs writhed. 

Slid a hand up Raphael's thigh, pressed his thumb lightly against their slick entrance. "Oh, Azra, please, _please!"_

There was something gratifying about having the Holy Archangel Raphael beg for him. They seemed to have completely forgotten themselves, fingers clawed into his hair and eyes screwed shut, sweat forming a hazy sheen against their soft skin. 

Slowly, he pushed one finger inside the angel, drawing the pad against the smooth walls that now surrounded it, continued flicking his tongue over their clit, enjoying the way their muscles seemed to tense with his every movement. They were tight and taut and hot around him, but still breathlessly begging him for more.

He could do more. Starting gently, he thrust his finger in deep and slid them out, their hips moved instinctively to match his movements.

Their begging was quickly reduced to incoherent babbling. He dragged his finger almost all the way out before pushing back inside, curling and making them lurch beneath him and Azra couldn't help but try to do it again, and he had promised himself he would take the angel apart piece by piece but he could hardly resist, not with the look on their face when he pressed his fingers into that spot inside them that made them see stars. He sped up a little, careful to reach for the same spot, they gasped and lurched again and Azra realized he could watch them react like that all night.

He pushed in a second finger when he caught a glimpse of the beautiful, blissed-out look on their face, their mouth fell agape with a wordless moan, pupils blown wide and gold overtaking their eyes as it did when they was distracted, the way their breath sharpened into tight gasps and their legs tightened around his head, not allowing him to draw back. 

Not that he would have, anyways. He sped up his pace just a little, fingers sliding in and out with ease, making sure to curl them to find the spot that made the angel writhe and squirm and babble incoherent pleas.

He kept his mouth busy on their clit, rubbing the tiny spot with the tip of his tongue as the angel shook beneath him, gasping each time his tongue brushed the little pearl. His fingers moved faster still, their hips moved with him, rising to meet each thrust.

"Azra! Azra I'm- I-" they gasped, crying out as his fingers curled inside them again.

"Let go, Raphael." 

And Azra got his wish, he got to watch them fall apart as they let out a wail and every muscle in their body tensed, their spine arched and they shuddered in the most delicious way, as their body pulsed around his fingers and fluids gushed around his hands. He continued to move, just barely, rubbing his fingers against the silk-soft walls that contracted around him, tongue moving in long strokes as they rode out the waves. 

They came back to him slowly, eventually settling a little. Azra quickly moved his mouth, he suspected any more attention to their swollen clit would just hurt more than anything, but left his fingers as they were. He enjoyed the way their body stretched to accommodate him, the ever so slight pressure of the slick cavern around his fingers. 

Their legs lay spread wide on either side of his shoulders, their eyes were half lidded as they propped themselves up on their elbows to get a good look at him.

He grinned at them. Their chest was still heaving as they fought to catch their breath. He moved, extracted his fingers and captured their mouth in a kiss. They pulled both arms around his neck, drew back to stare at him for a second. 

"You were amazing," he breathed. 

"Pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to say that," the redhead gasped, peppering kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

"Still, you were." 

He shifted as though to lie down beside them. Deftly, Raphael pulled a foot up and rubbed it against the tent in Azra's trousers. He couldn't help but moan against their mouth. 

"I've got somewhere that could go, if you're interested," they said it so casually, and Azra felt his cock twitch at the implication. 

"Is that something you would want?" He asked. 

"Very much so." 

Azra had to admit, he took his time complying. As much as he ached for relief, he was far more interested in every reaction he could pull from Raphael's lithe body, now that he knew they were up for more, and lowered his head back between their legs, and without a word, slipped his tongue inside. 

The noise Raphael made was sweeter than any choir’s song. 

Yes, he could keep himself _quite_ occupied down there. 

When he had drawn another orgasm from the angel, he finally withdrew and mouthed his way back up their body. Their hands scrambled for the button of his trousers, pushing them down as he climbed fully on top of them to kiss them again. He kicked them off his feet, the angel reached down and hooked their fingers under the elastic of his pants, pushed them off his hips and down as far as they could push them. There was something appealing with how they hung there, shoved just enough out of the way to not be a nuisance. 

"Raphael," he breathed, the angel shushed him, wrapped their hand around his cock and rubbed their thumb along the head, fingers pumping the shaft. "Raphael, you- I-" 

They smiled and pressed their free hand to his lips. "It's my turn," they said, continuing to pump. Azra felt heat building in his groin, warm and delicious and oh-so consuming, until he couldn't think of anything else but the Archangel's skilled, clever hand and what it was doing to him. "Raphael-"

They seemed to get the hint. They stopped pumping. "Take me. I'm yours. I've always been yours," they whispered, aligning his cock so he could roll his hips and slide up inside them, and then he couldn't move, enveloped as he was in their delicious heat. They were slick and warm and pliant around him, their body stretching easily to take him in as deep as he could push. 

They let out a moan that melted Azra's brain out his ears, left him driven by pure instinct. He pulled his hips back, almost enough to fall completely from the angel, and they whimpered at the loss until he pushed himself back in to the hilt. He repeated this several times, the silken-slick drag that engulfed him was enough to drive him mad. 

"You're so good, you're so good to me, angel, so good for me, so- I- fuck-" he struck a particularly satisfying spot inside them and lost his train of thought and pleasure flooded his body.

The angel was pliant beneath him, taking everything he would give them, legs spread wide for him and body quivering. He reached his thumb down and pressed it against the hard nub of their swollen clit, rubbing it forcefully and adoring the way the angel wailed beneath him, entire being writhing under his attentions. Their hands moved from his hair to claw at his back, sharp teeth bit into his shoulder in an effort to quiet themselves until Azra pulled away. "No, dear, I want to hear you."

They nodded.

He was fairly sure by now that they wouldn't last much longer, not after the last two times, but he was quite certain he wouldn't either. The angel was better than any Heaven he had ever known, wrapped around him and rolling their hips in time to his increasingly quickening thrusts. They tangled his fingers in his hair, pulled him down to kiss them as he pushed in and out of them and fire built in his groin.

"Raphael, I'm going to-" 

"Inside," they said without hesitation, staring up at him until he struck a particularly sensitive spot inside them and their eyes rolled back involuntarily. They cried out, clenched around him and Azra spilled, the world flashed white as Raphael all but screamed beneath him, body seizing rhythmically around him as they clawed his back and rocked their hips, riding Azra through the throes of his orgasm. His fingers dug into their hips, keeping them close until they had both stopped twitching. 

And he could have lain there forever, head against the angel's chest, breathing stuttering and cheeks flushed. 

He eventually moved off Raphael, they whined a little as he slid from inside them, but settled quickly, Azra running a soothing hand along their side. Pressed adoring kisses to their mouth, thanking them silently. Raphael smiled against his lips. "You were wonderful, angel. Truly, Heaven is not a place on Earth, but an angel placed upon it." 

Raphael stared at him in shock as the worshipful words fell from his tongue. "If you were the epicenter I never would have fallen, I would have stayed on my knees just to be near you."

"I love you. If I could have kept you at my side for all eternity, I would have." The words slipped off their tongue without their knowledge, it was all they could think to return with. Their tongue was unused to blasphemy and worship after such a long time with nothing worthy of it in their life.

Azra smiled, cupped their face and kissed them, stroking his thumb along their cheek. 

"I know. I love you too," he paused, kissed them again. 

Raphael tongue flicked against his teeth, they wrapped their arms around him. "I've fallen in love with you time after time for the last six thousand years. I won't lose you tomorrow and waste all of that. I think I have an idea of what Agnes' prophecy means." 

Azra raised an eyebrow. "Do tell?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yeah so I think the only relevant stuff in this is that Raphael gives Azra that Shakespeare manuscript I mentioned 100 chapters ago, they say I love you if they didn't do that last chapter I don't remember I wrote this before the last chapter, and Raphael is pretty sure that they figured out the prophecy but we don't actually say their idea. That's it! if anybody else thinks of a plot point I should have mentioned feel free to comment it but I really don't think anything else plot-related happened in here, I was not supposed to post this so it really didn't drive the plot


	23. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Heaven](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NY0fKN0Q5H8)

_ Angel wings at the bus stop _

_ Halos left on top of the bar _

_ Heaven doesn't want me now _

_ Heaven doesn't want me _

It was a new feeling, to wake up with his arms wrapped up around someone. Raphael forced his eyes open, tried to ignore how different the world seemed through someone else's. "Good morning, Azra," he murmured, shifting a little where he lay. 

Azra rolled over, gave Raphael a smile. " _ Raphael,  _ dear. Good morning  _ Raphael _ . Best be getting into character." 

It was incredibly strange to see his own face staring up at him. 

He supposed Azra had a point, all in all. They couldn't afford for anyone to hear them slip up once their plan was in action. 

Raphael sat up, groaned as his head started to pound. He pressed a hand to his forehead, screwed his eyes shut.

Without a word, Azra slipped his hand into Raphael's. "You need your strength to get through today. If you have none of your own, you'll just have to take some of mine." 

"I have a feeling that if we pull this off, we'll both be feeling quite restored by the end of it," Raphael muttered, but listened to the demon anyways. "Azra there's something you should know." 

"You've said that a lot lately," Azra remarked. 

"There's a lot I should have told you already. But- I- I'm not  _ ready  _ to tell you why even though I've been promising you that I will for thousands of years, so I just need you to know something for when you see Gabriel. I'll tell you why-"

Azra shushed him. "You'll tell me why when you're ready to do so, and not a moment before. Just tell me what I need to know." 

Raphael took a deep breath. "Gabriel is going to act as though I owe him my life and- and that's because it's true. I can't tell you what it is but I owe him a debt I can  _ never  _ repay, no matter what I do. It's why he's in charge and I'm assigned to Earth despite him being younger than me. So when he tells you that you owe him, that you've betrayed his trust and put us both in danger, agree. Because it's the truth, and I've never once been arrogant enough to try and deny it. If you try to defend me and say that I don't owe him anything, he'll know that something's up." 

Raphael could see the questions budding on the tip of Azra's tongue, which at the moment was his tongue. 

But the demon was kind enough not to ask them. He remained silent. 

“Does that make sense? I’m sorry I haven’t told you yet but-”

Azra held a finger to his lips. “The only time I want you to tell me is when you’re good and ready. I don’t need you to feel bad for not being ready to tell me something that was clearly traumatic for you, dear.”

Raphael nodded. “Come on, get up,  _ Raphael,  _ we both need to get dressed.”

“I assume I’m going to have to miracle both sets of clothes. The ones you wore yesterday are more red than white, and mine spent the night on the floor,” Azra remarked. 

Raphael shook his head. “Check the closet, I don’t only own one set of clothes. At the very least there’s a skirt in there, and there  _ should _ be another pantsuit.” 

He glanced at the floor. Azra’s clothes were heaped on the floor where Raphael had thrown them last night. There were deep creases and folds in the soft fabrics the demon prefered. “As for yours? You’re right, I can’t wear those without a miracle, and you’ve banned me from miracles.”

“It’s going to be suspicious if anyone from Hell sees me bleeding out the nose after performing a demonic miracle when yesterday it was  _ you _ doing that.” 

Raphael scoffed. “Wasn’t just yesterday, bleeding out my nose is nothing new to me. Happens every time I do something major.”

Azra stared at him. Raphael realized his eyes were even more unnerving staring at him from another person than just in the mirror. “How have I never noticed?”   
“Haven’t had permission to do anything major for several millennia, Azra. Since the war in Heaven. Now, if it’s true to last time, the bleeding will stick around for about a month every time I perform a miracle, and after that I should be fine. Nothing to worry about.” 

Azra sighed and grabbed the clothes off the floor, gave them a shake and a stern look and they were freshly cleaned. “There you go,  _ Azra, _ all fresh and cleaned up for you. Probably could have saved me the miracle if you wouldn’t have just thrown them on the floor.”

“Because you were super concerned about stopping so that you could fold them nicely and put them on the chair.”

They both laughed. Raphael tugged on Azra’s black slacks, purple shirt and black waistcoat. “There, how do I look?”   
“Isn’t it narcissistic for me to answer that, dear?” Azra asked, walking over to the angel’s closet to discover that he was right, there were several pairs of the same ensemble hanging neatly. “I think I found the only clean part of your apartment, Raphael,” he said, pulling one out and beginning to pull it on.

“I suspect you’ll understand why my apartment is like this by the end of the day,” Raphael said, pulled Azra’s black leather coat over his shoulders. “Oh, this is nice. I like this one.”

“You’re not stealing it, Raphael, I know that’s what human couples do but we are not a human couple and I’ve had that coat for  _ years.” _

“Couples,” Raphael’s voice was almost revenant. “I’ve been waiting six thousand bloody years to call us that again, and you beat me to it.” 

Azra looked over at the angel. “Raphael?”

“Yes?”

“If we were… I mean, if you knew me… you remember my name, don’t you?” He asked.

Raphael nodded. “You don’t, do you? That’s why you didn’t know how I got close on the garden wall,” he realized. 

"I don't remember anything before the Fall. I never even know when the war happened, I assumed I Fell after it oh, but I don't remember it. But you remember my name. Would you tell me it?”   
“I was under the impression that you wouldn’t want to know. You’re Azra, now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I didn’t think that I wanted to know either. Not until last night.” 

“It isn’t my fault, is it? I’m well aware of the change, I don’t think of you by that name anymore.”

“But you remember me by it. And I wonder if knowing my name would help me remember a time before the fall. I think I would like to remember Heaven, if you were there with me. I want to have the same memories you do. Even if, as you insist, I'm not the angel anymore, I would like to have all of our memories.

Raphael nodded. “Are you sure you want to hear it? There are demons ready to shred angels who call them by their former names. I doubt Beelzebub would take well to being referred to by their angelic name.”

“I’m not going to shred you, Raphael, don’t be ridiculous. And I'm not taking well to being compared to  _ Beelzebub _ . Now tell me what it is, dear.”

“Aziraphale. Your name was Aziraphale.” 

Azra was silent for a while. “It does seem familiar.  _ Aziraphale.  _ It sounds a lot like your name,” he remarked. 

“Not intentionally. We weren’t meant to have anything to do with each other. God can piss off, because the love we had was  _ our _ creation. She didn’t intend it. Didn’t try to take it away, but didn’t know it would happen. Otherwise I’m sure your rank would have kept you closer to me than a principality. I was only really supposed to be bossing you around, but I never did like bossing people around. Lucifer adored it, and Gabriel couldn't wait to have someone that he was in charge of, being the youngest, but me...”

“I was a principality?” 

Raphael slapped a hand over his mouth. Azra chuckled. “Do you think I would have asked you about the past if I couldn’t handle hearing it, dear? You haven’t hurt me by telling me. I’m honestly a little curious to know about this version of me that you once knew.”

“The important things never changed, Azra, it’s why I never walked away. You remained  _ you, _ even if you wore black instead of white. I set out to forget Aziraphale, to do anything else would be unfair to both of us, and you walked over and charmed me all over again. I knew that you weren't the same, but somehow, you made me fall for you again. You were still exactly the same, in all the ways that I fell in love with you, you just looked a little different. And your eyes stayed the same colour, which is more than I can say.” Raphael admitted.    
“Your eyes weren’t always yellowish?”   
Raphael sighed. “They were… they were-”   
“Raphael, you don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. They were gold. And they weren’t serpentine.” 

Azra nodded. “I think I like them like this. They add to your interest.”

For the first time ever, Raphael actually believed someone when they said something kind about his eyes. He swallowed, hard. “I didn’t get them from being a model angel.”

“I saw the model angel yesterday. I wouldn’t have wanted you to. And I should know you're not a model angel, Raphael, your best friend is a demon." 

"To think, I'm an Archangel, but if either of us has a standard to live up to, it's you. You bring out the best, I like the version of myself that you know more I like myself." 

"Have you ever considered that at this point those are the same thing? Besides, what do I do that is so admirable? I'm a demon, Raphael."

"You stand for what you believe in, not what you're told to do. That's more than I can ever say. I did things I regret, just because I wouldn't say no. I didn't have the courage to say no to something I thought was wrong," Raphael admitted. "The last assignment I completed in Heaven… it was something I had vowed to have nothing to do with. And in the end, I gave up on what I believed, and I did what I was told. I was too afraid of the consequences to try and stand for what I truly believed was right."

"Most demons are a walking example of what happens if you do have the guts to tell the Almighty that you think She's wrong. I wouldn't wish this on you. You are too fine an angel, Hell would have torn you to pieces, we've broken you and tried to tear every bit of goodness from you, and you have genuine goodness. Not what Heaven parades around as holy and good, you have  _ true _ goodness. They would have torn that right out of you, or kept trying until they managed to. Assuming Lucifer didn't have some kind of brotherly quarrel with you and literally tear you to pieces, first."

The angel laughed, almost reluctantly. "I suppose that's true. I've recently learned that Lucifer had a lot of reasons to destroy me before I ever suffered in his kingdom, had a Fall occurred. Now, we should get ready to go," he decided. Tugged on Azra's black loafers and headed for the door. 

Stopped dead in his tracks when he realized what was parked outside. 

Adam hadn't just changed reality, he had  _ fixed  _ it. Set everything back to before Armageddon had begun. Atlantis was gone, the kraken was gone, and… 

And the Bentley sat, as good as new, outside Raphael's apartment. 

"Az- Raphael! Come here, we're going on a quick detour!" 

"We don't have  _ time _ for a detour, Azra, have you forgotten that we're fugitives?" The demon disguised as Raphael asked, stepping out the door after remembering where Raphael had thrown his shoes yesterday. "Is that-" 

"It is," Raphael agreed, trying to look as monotone as possible. They didn't know when Heaven and Hell would arrive, and at the moment, the Bentley wasn't  _ his  _ car. "Good as new. Without a scratch. So I bet that means…" 

"The bookshop," Azra guessed. "It should be fixed too." 

"Exactly, my dear boy! Get in!" 

Azra grabbed Raphael's arm as he headed for the driver's seat. "You realize you have to let me drive, don't you?" 

Raphael looked at Azra for a puzzled moment before remembering. "If you somehow light it on  _ fire  _ again, I don't care how long I've known you, I'll never speak to you again." 

"You don't plan on letting me live that threat down, do you?" 

"No I don't. Not exactly the finest thing to say to someone who's dying, and I should know. I've seen a lot of people die in my profession." 

"I'm sure you have. Now, to the bookshop!" Azra declared, jumping in front seat of the vehicle. Raphael reluctantly handed him the key. 

"How did you manage to drive this yesterday without the key? I know I keep it on my person, and I was discorporated."

"I didn't realize it needed a key. Enter you performed a miracle on my car? Again? After the last time you messed around with this car and left me stuck listening to Freddie Mercury for the rest of its existence?"

Azra turned the key. The radio crackled to life. 

_ Another hero, another mindless crime _

_ Behind the curtain, in the pantomime _

_ Hold the line _

_ Does anybody want to take it anymore? _

Raphael groaned and turned the radio off. Azra laughed and turned it back on.

"As if you don't perform miracles on this car every time you drive it. Do you even know how to drive, or did you just assume it couldn't be that hard, so it wasn't. Also, when was the last time you put gas in this thing?"

"When they were giving away the bullet hole stickers."

"You do realize most people fill up their cars more than once in ninety years, Azra, don't you?"

"Oh, just drive, Raphael."

Azra complied, yet again didn't shift into gear and took off like a shot. 

"If I don't get to drive the Bentley, you don't get to go in the bookstore. Raphael isn't particularly interested in a bookstore, he can't read.

"You wouldn't!"

"I told you in the seventies that you weren't allowed to drive this car, and yet here you are, in the driver's seat for the second time in two days. I've been liberal enough. You're not going in the bookstore."

"But how will I know if everything was restored? You're sitting in your car, you know it's restored!"

"You think I don't know your catalogue?"

"I thought it gave you a headache to read."

"It does. But your books are important to you. So I know which ones you have, which editions. I always have, since you started collecting." 

"Raphael-"

"Azra."

"Azra, you cannot ban me from my own bookshop and then say something sweet like that. It is not fair."

"That's not how I talk at all, seriously you're going to have to work on that. You sound so stuffy."

"And you aren't going to have to work on your manner of speaking?"

"I can speak like a particular demon, when I feel like attempting to." 

"You're making fun of me."

"Of course I am!" Raphael laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game time, if you read it, tell me what song you think I should have named the last chapter after. instantly after I picked the Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene, I realized that I could have done Heaven is a Place on Earth, which actually matches up to what someone said almost so I now wish I had done that, there's been a few but that's the most notable one. So, tell me what your song choice would have been for the last chapter. Incidentally, Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene is the only song that I've used the title that isn't on the playlist that I'll share at the end of this story.  
> This is exactly what it sounds like it is, which is a chance to send me your most ironic and also your dirtiest songs with the assurance that if I don't already know it, I will go listen to it!


	24. The Only Hope For Me Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [The Only Hope For Me Is You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSye1-TBeqg)

_If there's a place that I could be_  
_Then I'd be another memory_  
_Can I be the only hope for you?_  
_Because you're the only hope for me_  
_And if we can't find where we belong,_  
_We'll have to make it on our own_  
_Face all the pain and take it on_  
_Because the only hope for me is you alone_

"Strawberry lolly and a vanilla with a flake," Raphael said, leaning up against the ice cream cart. He handed the vendor money that hadn't been in Azra's coat pocket a minute ago. Azra refused to carry or use real money, he got all his finances from miracles. Raphael supposed that upholding the economy probably was a demonic act and he should use real money less often. 

The vendor handed both of them their ice cream. Raphael tried to pull out his best enthusiasm about the strawberry lolly, but the honest truth was he didn’t care much for most food and probably wasn’t a very convincing Azra. 

Hopefully there was no one around who knew the demon well enough to notice. 

“When do you think it’ll happen?” Azra breathed, leaning in just a tad, breath tickling the back of Raphael’s neck. 

Raphael shrugged. “Maybe they won’t. Maybe we’ve done this for no reason.”

“I’d better not be putting up with a forked tongue for no reason.” 

“You didn’t mind the forked tongue last night, dearest. Now hush, they could be here any moment.” 

Azra nodded. “So, Azra, what will we do next?” He asked. “I doubt either of us are going to have to waste time reporting to the head offices anymore. We could do… anything.”

“I’ve always fancied getting out of London again. Perhaps travel to America. I’ve never been.”

“Nor I. Tried once, didn’t go well. Boat sank.” 

“That was quite the fuss when it happened.” Raphael remarked. “Must have been a cold wait for help.” 

It had been miserable, and he had spent three days just trying to feel his fingers again after winding up in the water when that blasted boat hit the iceberg. 

“Well it sure wasn’t much fun.” 

Raphael had to admit he was getting antsy. It wasn’t like Gabriel to stall, he was surprised they had gotten last night. 

It would be any minute now, that Gabriel would come for him and their ruse would be put to the test. 

_ It’s ineffable, isn’t it, little healer? _

Raphael whirled around to stare at Death, standing amidst grazing ducks, staring directly at him. “You’re supposed to be bad luck.” 

_ Surely you and I know better. _

And just like that, he was gone, and something grabbed the back of Raphael’s collar, yanked him back, choking him. He twisted to see what had to be a demon dragging him backwards while another forced a cloth over his mouth and nose. “Raphael! Run!” 

Azra turned to see him, hucked his vanilla with a flake across the park as he tried to get to Raphael. “Stop! Somebody stop them!” He cried, running frantically. 

The world was starting to spin. His head was beginning to pound and his footsteps dragged on the ground as he was pulled backwards. 

“Somebody stop the-” 

“Raphael!” 

He hadn’t expected Heaven to be more violent, but Gabriel stood up off a park bench and whacked Azra in the back of the head with something Raphael couldn't see. Azra stumbled a few more steps and collapsed to the ground. 

And the world went black. 

_ Hell _

Raphael had never been in Hell before. He forced himself not to stare as he was hoisted up from under his arms, pushed towards the door of the grimy cell he had woken up in. He had already thrown up twice since waking, and he still felt sick. 

His hands were bound together at the wrists. He gave them an experimental tug, but they held fast. 

“Did you think it would be that easy, Azra?” The demon who had thrown him to his feet scoffed. “Get moving.” 

He was shoved into the hall, where a light flickered irritatingly above him, his head ached even more with the flashing light. 

He kept his silence as he was escorted down the hallway. Mostly because he had nothing to say, partially because he was afraid that if he spoke he would give away his disguise before the game had even begun. 

He walked down the hallway with his back straight and shoulders back, the way Azra would. Azra didn't saunter the way that the angel did. Azra always looked professional, always seemed to know exactly how much space he could take up.

The lights hummed, and Raphael's skull pounded with them. Whatever he had been dosed with, it was worse than forgetting to sober up after a night of drinking with Azra.

He was escorted by the demon with fish scales on her face, into a room with a throne, a bathtub, and a glass window where demons gathered in a hall could observe the proceedings.

"Nice place you have here," he remarked, looking around.

"Not for you it won't be."

Another demon that Raphael didn't recognize walked into the room, followed shortly by one he did recognize.

Beelzebub.

"Could do with some bookshelves. Maybe a coffee table?"

Beelzebub took their seat on the throne. "Silenzzze!" They commanded. "The prisoner should approach."

"Love to. So there's four of us. Rubber of bridge? Barbershop quartet?"

Beelzebub glared at him. "The trial of a traitor."

Raphael nodded. That had been about what he expected. So, Lord Beelzebub you are?" 

"I'm the judge, they snapped. "There is no one left alive who has witnessed your crimes, so the prosecution today is Asmodeus." 

"And you? You're defending me?" Raphael asked the one who escorted him to the room.

"Dagon? Defending you?"

The demon, Dagon, gave him a pointed smile. "No, I'm afraid I'm just here in case there's something you've done, that they forgot."

Beelzebub smiled. "We built this plaze for you ssspecially. It shall be your plaze of trial, and it shall be your place of deztruction."

"Really, you shouldn't have gone to all the trouble. What appears to be the problem?"

_ Heaven _

"How  _ dare  _ you. Everything I've done for you, Raphael, and you throw it away! I saved you, and you would rather throw everything away with that stupid demon who you've never been over! you decide that the best way you can repay me for saving you from a fate worse than death is to go against God's wishes ruin the Great Plan."

"Did you really have to hit me in the head?" Azra asked, seeming a little irritable. "Honestly, there are nicer ways to drag me back to Heaven."

"In case it's not clear for you yet, brother, we are not particularly interested and being nice," Uriel hissed. "You've betrayed us for the final time." 

Azra frowned. "I didn't betray you, the greater good called for the halting of the apocalypse. I'm fully qualified to make my own judgements about the plans of Heaven." 

"Are you trying to joke, brother? We have ample proof that you are nowhere  _ near  _ qualified to make that judgement! You're staring at us with it!" Gabriel barked a laugh. 

Azra tugged at the ropes that tied him to the chair he was currently seated in. 

All around him were wide, floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out upon the clouds and the Earth. The floors were white, the ceiling was white, where there were walls, they were indeed also white.

The room was bare.

Everything felt cold and clean and sterile. There was no love to be had here, nothing held dear to oneself.

All of the sudden, it made sense that Raphael never threw anything out. Heaven clearly threw everything out. There was no room for attachment, no room for appreciation, no room for creature comfort.

"Where's our associate?" Gabriel asked. "And did you make sure to get Michael out of here? You know she'll try to convince us to use softer methods, but these already are softer than what I considered, and his life is  _ mine  _ to rule on. We have to get rid of him before the Metatron does, or it's not just him who pays." 

Azra couldn't understand who else would pay for Raphael's so-called crimes. 

"He's on his way, and I convinced Michael to deliver the Holy Water to Hell herself. Defend her brother's honour by helping take out the demon who disgraced him and all that. By the time she gets back, she'll be too late to stop this," Uriel assured him. "Everything is going according to plan." 

Except for the part about them having an angel. 

The lift pinged. "You're going to like this, Raphael. Or maybe you won't. But I bet you didn't see it coming. You really thought that I would let the Metatron deal with you? At this point you would  _ like  _ that, to be thrown off to spend the rest of your days fawning over the demon you could never forget about and move on from. But if that happens, then I'm doomed, too. Why would I ever let that happen, when there's such a more…  _ permanent _ way of getting rid of angels who can't behave." 

Azra watched a demon walk across the floor. "Don't get this view down in the basement. Where am I putting this?" 

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and a containment circle appeared on the floor. "Right there, if you please." 

The demon threw something at the circle, and it errupted into hellish flames. 

Azra had to fight to keep a smile from his face. 

_ Hell _

"And the murder of a fellow demon!" Asmodeus cried.

"Do I get to defend myself?" Raphael asked, frowning. 

"That is a good question, I suppose," Asmodeus conceded.

"Objection! It's a stupid question! There's nothing he could possibly say that could defend himself!" Dagon declared. 

"Objection suztained. She'z right. You will have no defenze," Beelzebub ruled. "Demonz of Hell, you have heard the evidence against the demon Azra, what is your verdict?" 

"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" 

Beelzebub smiled. "Do you have anything to zay before we take our vengeance on you?" 

Raphael shrugged. "So what is it going to be? Eternity in the darkest pit?" 

Dagon grinned. "Oh no. We're going to do something much worse. Letting the punishment fit the crime. We're taking care of you in a  _ much  _ more permanent way. You destroyed two Dukes of Hell, what did you think would happen?" 

A little demonic creature that Raphael had just noticed cleared his throat. "Send for the Method of Execution!" 

And Raphael's breath caught in his throat. 

_ Michael  _ stepped out of the lift, dressed from head to toe in white, holding a glass pitcher in her hands. Her shoes clacked against the floors. 

Michael had known Raphael for all of his life. If anyone would be able to recognize him in this disguise, it was Michael. 

Raphael swallowed his doubts. "The Archangel Michael. That's… well, it's extremely unlikely." 

"You ought to approve, Azra! It's cooperation with our old enemies! After all, you've been fucking around with that daft old Archangel Raphael for six thousand years, it's our turn!" 

Michael cleared her throat. "Traitor or not, Raphael is my brother. Could you perhaps save the mockery for when I'm not here?" 

"Shut up, wank-wings. You brought the stuff?" 

Michael nodded, brandished her pitcher. "I have. I'll be back to collect it." 

"No, you should do the honours. We're at the trial of a demon who destroyed two of his own kind with that stuff, we know what it can do." Dagon said hastily. 

Michael nodded, walked over to the bathtub and began pouring. 

The pitcher didn't run out of water, she kept pouring until the tub was full. 

Her hands didn't shake. Raphael watched her intently. 

"That's Holy Water," he whispered.

"The Holiest, yes," Michael agreed. "It's not normally something we would agree to, but… you are the demon who tempted our brother to treason." 

"It was not so hard. He already wanted to do it," Raphael said with a smirk. Michael looked like she was ready to lunge at him and tear him apart with her bare hands. "I wonder if Heaven got a similar deal." 

"We didn't." Michael said matter-of-factly. "Now, I'm leaving. Take care of this demon." 

"It'z not that we don't truzt you, Michael, but obviouzly we don't truzt you. Azmodeuz, test it." 

Asmodeus grabbed the little usher by his tail, held him over the bath. 

"What have I done?" 

"Wrong place, wrong time." 

He let go of the demon's tail. He wailed as the water ate him away, rendered him to nothing. 

Beelzebub smiled. "Demon Azra, I sentence you to extinction by Holy Water. Do you have anything to zay?" 

Raphael nodded. "It's just… I've kept this jacket in tip-top condition for nearly fifty years, and I would hate to ruin it now. Mind if I take it off?"

_ Heaven _

"You've grown, Gabriel. Fully prepared to destroy your own brother now!" Azra remarked. "That is  _ quite _ permanent, you're right about that. No chance for you to realize you've screwed up afterwards."

"I haven't screwed up. You're starting to make me think that I made the mistake six thousand years ago!" Gabriel snapped. 

Uriel stomped forwards and pulled the ropes of his wrists, then yanked him to his feet. Azra stumbled, but stayed on his feet. 

He brushed himself off, straightened Raphael's white coat. "You seem determined. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"

"Absolutely not. This is my only choice." 

He had a…  _ frantic  _ air about him. Like he was outrunning someone, and trying to get this done before someone else found out. 

"We're meant to be the angels, Gabriel. The good guys, for Heaven's sake." 

"And for Heaven's sake, we should make examples out of traitors!" 

He took a deep breath, took a few steps forward. "Fine then. Nice knowing you,  _ brother. _ May we meet on a better occasion."

"Just shut your stupid mouth! Shut your stupid mouth, Raphael, and get into the flames!" Gabriel shouted. "You've been enough of a liability to me!" 

Azra supposed he couldn't argue anymore. He stepped into the flames. 

Smiled, cracked his neck. 

"You know, I told you at the airbase that I wasn't afraid of you or your consequences anymore," he remarked, holding his fingers up, and picking at his fingernails. "I guess now you get to figure out that I wasn't lying." 

"How- you're still an angel! The Metatron hasn't heard what happened yet!" 

"Well, I guess I must just be immune. Maybe I'm not as angelic as you think." 

Azra took a deep breath, and blew a gust of hellfire at Gabriel, Uriel and Sandalphon. 

They leapt backwards. 

"What  _ is  _ he?" 

"I'll answer that," Azra said, grinning. "Not your little plaything. I don't care what I owed you, Gabriel, I expect to be left alone now. God has yet to strike me down for my treason, and your little execution attempt clearly didn't work." 

"This isn't the last you'll hear of me, Raphael. You owe me  _ everything."  _

Azra didn't bother to respond. "I'll be going now." 

_ Hell _

"I don't suppose that anywhere in all the nine circles of Hell, someone would be able to muster up a rubber duck?" Raphael asked, folding an arm dramatically over the tub. 

The water was cold, and considering Hell wasn't as hot as anyone would expect, it wasn't pleasant. Hell had the temperature of an office building with a boss who refused to turn off the air conditioning during the springtime. 

However, at the same time, the water was  _ lovely.  _ After walking in Hell, the Holy bath was wonderful. 

Raphael flicked his fingers, watched Holy Water arc through the air. The demons leapt backwards. 

"He'z gone native…" Beelzebub whispered, staring at him in abject horror. "He izn't one of uz anymore." 

Raphael smiled. Flicked water at the glass separating him from the spectators, listened as it sizzled. "I can't help but think you must be wondering that if I can do  _ this,"  _ he cupped his hands and lifted a handful of water out of the tub, dropped it carelessly on the floor. It sizzled and burned its way through the ground. "Then I wonder what else I can do. And very soon, I'll give you all a chance to find out."

Dagon frowned. "He's bluffing. One demon against all of Hell? We can take him!" 

Raphael carelessly flicked more water at the glass.

"Shut it! We have to get him out of here, he'z going to cauze a riot!" Beelzebub snarled. She glared at the demon's behind the glass. "What are you all looking at, there's nothing to see here, nothing to see!" 

The glass went black. 

The lift pinged. Michael walked back into the room, heels clicking as she approached. She held her empty pitcher in her hands.

The sight of her made Raphael want to vomit. He could hardly imagine his sister agreeing to such a horrible task, to the destruction of anything, even a demon.

He remembered how lovely Michael had been, when he had fallen in love, even though he wasn't supposed to. He remembered how she had supported him, how she had welcomed Aziraphale into the little family the Archangels have made.

And now she had agreed to come to Hell, with the tool of the demon's destruction.

"I've returned to collect the- oh Lord." 

Michael almost lost her grip on the pitcher. She stared at the demon still sitting in the bathtub, playing in the Holy Water, in shock.

Raphael held a hand out. "Michael, I need a favour. Would you miracle me a bath towel?"

Dumbstruck, the angel did as he asked. Raphael grabbed the fluffy white towel from her and began to dry himself off, while the others in the room watched. 

"You know, I believe it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone from now on. Don't you?" 

One by one, the spectators nodded. 

"Right, then that's tickety-boo. I'll get dressed and be on my way. Lovely seeing you all!"


	25. I'll See Your Heart and I'll Raise You Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a big fan of the next couple of chapters, they are going to be SUPER angsty though and finally explain all the shit I've been setting up all along, so please let me know what you think of them, it would mean the world to me.

Raphael and Azra emerged from the elevator holding hands. "Was it as awful as you feared?" Raphael asked. 

"Worse." 

They stepped out of the building and headed for St. James' park. 

"Hell was much as I expected," Raphael confessed. "Michael was there. I made her miracle me a bath towel." 

Azra snorted. 

"I was surprised that Beelzebub believes in a jury of one's peers. I'm sure Gabriel was the sole judge for me." 

"Judge?" 

"At the trial," Raphael explained, looking over at the demon. 

It was strange to see his own face staring back at him. 

"Trial?"

"Yes, there was a trial in Hell. Not a balanced trial, there were two prosecutors and no defence, but there was a trial. Did Heaven not do that??

He didn't get an answer that was made up of words. 

Azra wrapped his arms around him, tracing fingers down the back of his spine. 

"Dear? What's wrong?" 

"You didn't have a trial," Azra breathed. "Gabriel deemed you guilty before you even arrived." 

Raphael didn't answer. 

He didn't know what to say. With Azra's words, it felt like something that had long been breaking had finished shattering in his chest. It sliced him open from the inside, hot pain flooding through his chest. 

Gabriel had written him off. Gabriel would rather see him destroyed than judged. 

His brother had decided he would rather see Raphael dead than alive. 

He didn't realize he was shaking until Azra tried to still him. "It's going to be alright, dear. We should swap back, and go for lunch. Take your mind off of things." 

"I owe you an explanation. After what you saw in Heaven," Raphael whispered, even though explaining was the last thing he wanted to do right now. 

He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to let all his pent up anger and confusion and pain out and shout his rage to the sky and beyond it.

But he didn't. He stayed stone-faced. 

"You don't owe me anything, dearest. I promise. Now, is anyone looking?" 

Raphael closed his eyes and scanned the area. "Not anymore, they aren't." 

"Excellent." 

Raphael fitted his hand into Azra's, and, like exhaling a breath he had been holding since last night, finally returned to his own corporation. 

His jacket smelled of smoke. He was surprised it wasn't singed. 

Azra flexed his fingers, straightened his coat. He looped his arm around Raphael's. "Are you alright, dear?" 

"I… I don't know," Raphael admitted. 

There was a pit in his stomach that just kept sinking deeper and deeper, trying to swallow him. 

His eyes welled up with tears when he paused to think about it. As much as he had known what his actions entailed, despite the fact that he had known his betrayal would lead to this, it was quite another thing to actually know that Gabriel had completely written him off. Had actually, fully given up on him and chosen to destroy him. 

That Raphael had finally become a liability and a burden instead of a beloved brother. 

He leaned his cheek up against Azra's shoulder. Azra clasped one of the angel's hands in both of his own. "If you're not up for lunch, we don't have to go. I thought you may like some wine to relax, or, well, even some champagne, we did just save the world, but if you need to go home, that's alright too." 

Raphael sniffled. "It… it didn't really sink in until… he was my  _ brother,  _ I've known him all his life!" 

"If it helps… Michael didn't know what was happening. That was why she was sent to Hell with the Holy Water."

"It was just all three of my younger siblings." 

"But maybe Michael-" 

"No. It's over. I finally ruined… I ruined  _ everything _ ." 

Azra stopped the both of them, turned around and held the angel's face in his hands. "You haven't ruined  _ anything,  _ Raphael. You saved the  _ world _ . You were incredible, you've always been incredible. Heaven is  _ wrong.  _ And I  _ know  _ you can't believe me when I say that, I  _ know _ you've been loyal for six thousand years and to you it's sacrilege for me to say that, but Heaven is  _ wrong  _ and you did the  _ right thing. _ You did everything perfectly."

Raphael blinked, tears traced down his cheeks. "Then why does it feel like it was the wrong thing?" 

"Because sometimes the right thing isn't what someone tells us it is. You could have  _ Fallen  _ for your actions and I would still know that you did the right thing. Because right and wrong is  _ not  _ judged by Heaven and Hell. Not anymore." 

Raphael sniffled again. Azra pulled him closer, wrapped an arm around his waist. "Let's just go home, dear. I have a nice bottle of wine in the back of the shop, we'll just relax. I could keep reading Shakespeare, or we can just sit and talk. I know this was hard for you." 

"I think I would like that," the angel admitted. 

He didn't remember much of the walk to Azra's bookshop, or really much of anything until he had a glass of sweet red wine in his hand, and he was sprawled across the couch, his head rested against Azra's chest, the demon's legs on either side of him. 

Azra was playing with his hair, curling and twisting it into tresses that didn't stay without clips and pins and hairspray. 

"I want to tell you." 

It was a decision he had made without realizing that he had made it. The words spilled from his lips and he didn't realize how true they were until they were spoken. "I don't want to carry it alone anymore. I want someone- someone who actually  _ cares  _ to know." 

Azra pressed a kiss to his temple. "Of course, dear. If it's something you want to share, then I'm listening." 

Raphael nodded solemnly. Took a deep breath and another sip of his wine before he started. "I told you last night that I had questions for God after the war."

"Yes. You… you were bleeding after miracles. Like you are now." 

Raphael nodded. "And I had to know why the war had happened. Why Mother had allowed Lucifer to rebel. Lucifer had a copy of the Ineffable Plan, he tried to goad me into reading it so I knew he was dangerous, but I had no idea  _ how  _ dangerous. And I couldn't fathom how a benevolent God would allow the war to happen. Angels  _ died.  _ For the first time.  _ I  _ couldn't save them. I was angry and irrational and wounded in ways I didn't even know yet, which is funny, given that I'm the Healer." 

"You can't be expected to know everything."

"Just to have faith in it. And I didn't. I stormed in demanding answers and it went as well as you might imagine." 

_ Heaven  _

**That is enough questioning, Raphael. I would have thought you knew the consequences of disloyalty, now. I will NOT be questioned! Not by you, not by Lucifer, not by anyone! This ends NOW!**

A sinking feeling filled Raphael with horror as he realized what the Almighty must have meant, just seconds before it happened. "Wait-" 

It was too late. The ground opened beneath his feet like a wound in the floor of Heaven and his wings flared out to catch him but it was no use, they could do nothing to stop his descent. 

"Raphael!"

Gabriel's nails scraped his wrist as he hauled Raphael back up from where the ground had just opened, using all his might to bring his brother back to solid ground. "Mother, wait!" He cried. 

The Almighty stared coldly at Her two sons, one sprawled on the ground and shaking, the other staring at Her in desperation.  **You cannot interfere, Gabriel. I will not have doubt and disloyalty in our ranks again. If your brother is so concerned about Lucifer's fate, he can join Lucifer in Hell where traitors belong.**

"Mother, please, surely it cannot be that bad. Raphael is nothing like Lucifer he would never revolt!" 

**Raphael believes he knows better than I do. Raphael believes he is entitled to answers of things that do not concern him and I will no longer tolerate being questioned! To question me and refuse me is to betray me, and Raphael is well aware of the consequences of such acts! What he has done is unforgivable. Inexcusable. I cannot let this continue.**

"Mother, please. What if…" Gabriel was scrambling. He looked down at the ground, at his brother who still lay cowering at his feet, daring not even to look up towards the Almighty. Blood blossomed on his wrist and spilled to the ground. There were long scratches in the pale, spotted flesh from Gabriel's nails. "What if you weighed our ledgers together?" He offered. "What he did is unforgivable for one angel, but what about if it were weighed against two?"

The Almighty frowned.  **What do you mean by this, Gabriel?**

"Raphael has done something wrong that clearly must outweigh the good he's done, an unforgivable act of treason, so combine our ledgers. If what he's done is irredeemable even with both of our combined good influence, then you may cast us both out but if this isn't bad enough to not be made up for by both of our records, then please spare Raphael and I will allow myself to be held responsible for his actions. Just… just don't cast him away," Gabriel begged, tears in his violet eyes. "I can't lose another brother." 

_ Raphael has never been loyal. He constantly questioned the Will of God and refused to partake in the formation of the Garden recently. I am frankly surprised he hasn't already fallen. He needn't be spared. _ The Metatron declared.  _ He questions you, my Lord, and what you do. He comes here demanding to know of the Great Plan and why his brother must suffer. Clearly, he is more loyal to Lucifer than to you. _

The Almighty nodded along with the Metatron's account.  **Is that true, Raphael?**

The angel on the ground bowed his head even lower, entire body trembling with fright. His voice was high-pitched and scared when he did speak. "Mistakes, my Lord, mistakes! I have never valued Lucifer over you!" He vowed, tears flowing down his cheeks. "I- I'll make up for this, I will I'll do every asked of me I'll never question again-"

**Silence** . The Almighty commanded. Raphael's voice died in his throat.  **I shall spare you.**

"Thank you for your mercy, my Lord-"

**I am not finished, Raphael. I spare you for the sake of your brother, who had suffered enough of late. I spare you because your brother is willing to fall with you to save you. Not because I believe you are worthy of sparing. And make no mistake, if you cross the line again you shall both suffer for it.**

Raphael nodded.

**Will you take that responsibility, Gabriel? It would be easier for you to just allow him to fall now. He** **_will_ ** **fail again. It is a matter of time, unless you can change him.**

"I will, Mother. Gladly." 

The Almighty scowled.  **Very well. Gabriel, you come with me and we will establish the terms of this deal.** She looked at the Metatron.  **You may choose his fate, but he stays here. Stays an Archangel. We will honour Gabriel's sacrifice. When it is complete, Raphael, you will go to the Garden and you will finish the preparations of the Tree of Knowledge. Then you are to report to the Metatron for another task. Have I made myself clear?**

"Yes, Lord," Raphael said in a trembling voice.

**Disobedience will not longer be tolerated. You will do this, or you and your brother will Fall.**

"Yes, Lord.*

_ Present Day _

Raphael paused to sip his wine. His throat was dry, voice seconds from breaking. 

He had never told anyone what had happened that day. Not the full story, although he had told Myriam the generalities. Had never admitted to the terror he had felt as the ground disappeared beneath him and he realized he was wrong, that the Almighty would not answer him that he had  _ betrayed  _ her and he was never going to get to meet Aziraphale in the Garden. 

Azra was shaking. Raphael could feel it against his back. He was shaking with hot rage that Raphael could sense building up, a pot about to boil over.

"I- I'm sorry, Azra…" 

"Why are you sorry?" Azra asked. 

"Everything. Lying. Pretending I somehow had some right to call myself to  _ good,  _ to call myself Holy when I was never worthy I was just like you all along and-" 

His voice did break then, he pulled his knees up to his chest and hid his face from view as tears slipped down his cheeks. "You were  _ right  _ about me all along and I just didn't want to admit it." 

"Raphael, you have done nothing of the sort. You are better than any other angel, more deserving to be called Holy than Gabriel or Uriel or Sandalphon. I was trying to get a rise out of you, dear, I've never truly believed what I told you. I was being intentionally provocative, dear, I always knew you had no say in what happened. I always knew you did the best you could."

"But you're angry." 

"Yes." 

"Why, if not with me?" 

"Raphael, my darling, I've had six thousand years to accept that God was willing to throw me out, discard me like a plaything She didn't want anymore. I even understand why She did it. I  _ know  _ I succumbed to Lucifer's temptations. But to think-" 

He broke off, took a deep breath. "To think that She ever would have thought of doing the same to you… it makes my blood boil. To think that She was so ready to throw you away for being curious and  _ concerned  _ about someone you loved, someone you cared about. I am mad, furious, even, but I'm not mad at you, love. I'm furious with the Almighty. More than I ever have been before." 

"She was  _ right _ , Azra. I've  _ never  _ been as loyal as I should have been. I've been letting Her down since my creation."

"She was  _ wrong.  _ You are the best of Her angels, you are the only one who actually gives a damn about creation and if She can't see that then She's not fucking looking."

Azra held him a little closer, kissed his hair and whispered in his ear. "You should have been  _ cherished."  _

Raphael hiccuped. "Heaven doesn't cherish traitors. They- they have ways of dealing with them. I should be grateful, I’m the only one who didn’t Fall. It’s why I owe Gabriel everything, because the idea of serving Lucifer…” 

It was no longer the thought of not serving the Almighty that frightened them. It was the idea that they would have been under their brother’s control, under the control of the brother who had delighted in tormenting him before he Fell from Heaven. 

"You don’t owe him anything, not anymore. He gave up on you, and that’s his fault. If he was less of a stubborn pig, he would see that you did the right thing.”

“It doesn’t make it hurt less,” Raphael murmured, twisting to look up at the demon with watery eyes. 

Azra studied them for a brief while. “The Almighty allowed the Metatron to choose your fate. They- they are the one who changed your eyes, aren't they?"

Raphael nodded. "They were not allowed to do anything truly harmful to me, they had to accept the value of what Gabriel had done. But disfiguring me as a reminder…"

“That’s why you never wanted to talk about them. Because they are-”

“The very same eyes I would have if I  _ had _ Fallen. The Metatron might not have been allowed to cause my Fall, or even demote me as it would cause too many questions, but they could make me… look the part.” 

“I must admit, I don’t remember what you looked like before you had those eyes. I was hoping knowing my name would jog my memory, but it doesn’t appear to have worked yet. But I know for a fact that demonic or not, they  _ are _ lovely.” 

"That's only the half of it. I've done much worse than just almost Fall.'

"Raphael, you're talking to a demon. There's not a lot you can tell me that you did is going to be worse than something I've done."

"I caused the Fall of another angel." 

"Who's?" 

_ "Yours." _


	26. Hypoxia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Hypoxia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCRum8fA_g0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of my favourite songs that I used as a name so far, it took me three days to choose it and I hope you'll give it a listen!

_ I met you at the wrong time, _

_ Far too much on my mind. _

_ No tears from statue eyes, _

_ Even sadness I can’t do right. _

_ And if I’m gonna fall, _

_ Honey let me fall. _

_ You know it’s my fault, _

_ I flew too close again. _

  
  
  


_ Heaven  _

"Raphael, why will you not look at me, brother?" Gabriel asked, catching his hand as he turned to walk away. 

The air was tense between the two of them, crackling with unspoken emotion. 

They were both unwilling to discuss what had just transpired. They both knew they would have to, both knew that what had happened would require a discussion. 

But neither could handle the discussion right now. Wounds were still too raw. Gabriel still had blood under his fingernails from where he had caught Raphael seconds before it was too late, nails scraping through the skin of his wrist to haul him up. 

Raphael had a bloodstained bandage around his wrist now. Gabriel honestly wasn't sure where he had gotten it from. He doubted the Metatron had given it to his brother. 

It was odd that Raphael would choose not to miracle the wounds away.

"I can't."

"What else did the Metatron say?" Gabriel asked gently, passing his hand over the bandage. Raphael flinched. 

"Nothing, you know they can't do anything after the Almighty took your offer…" 

A thank you hovered on his lips, but a thank you would never be adequate for what Gabriel had done for him. They both knew. 

"Raphael, what happened? Look at me." 

The Archangel still refused. It stunned Gabriel to think that Raphael would refuse anything he asked after what had transpired mere minutes before. Gabriel had only left him with the Metatron for a few moments. 

Gabriel sighed. Whatever it was, it was clearly too raw for his brother to talk about right now. 

Despite what had just happened, despite what Gabriel had just done for him, Gabriel couldn't deny him time to collect himself before it was discussed. 

He let it go. "Raphael, the Almighty has a task for you." 

"I was meant-"

"Raphael!" Gabriel couldn't help but snap, could not help but start to shout. "Do you understand what just happened?" He demanded. "Don't you get it? There won't be any more of this running around to attend your own business before what you're told to do, I'm not even convinced you can be left to your own devices at the moment! It virtually doesn't matter if you had something to do, you  _ must  _ complete this task!" 

His brother was frozen, stiff, flinched away from his harsh words. 

His face softened. "I'm sorry, brother. I'm just worried about you. I can't bear to lose you too." 

Raphael nodded solemnly. "I'll go to the Garden now."

He didn't sound enthused, just resigned, but it would do for now. 

Besides, it wasn't a task Raphael  _ liked  _ that was being assigned. That would be too easy a test. So Gabriel didn't expect enthusiasm. 

"I'll go with you, brother-"

"How am I to prove myself with someone watching over my shoulder?" 

Gabriel pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Not as a watchman. For support. I know you don't want to do this." 

"That's half of why I have to do it alone, isn't it?" Raphael asked bitterly. 

Gabriel fell silent. "Be careful." 

The Garden was cool and still. The hair on Raphael's arms prickled as he walked barefoot through the grass. 

He could hardly breathe. He knew what he had to do, he had been instructed to do it days ago. 

He was trying to avoid Aziraphale. Maybe if the Principality didn't see him, he could return later and… 

And he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure what he could possibly say to Aziraphale to explain all that had changed, but he knew he needed to talk to the Principality. 

"Raphael?" 

The voice sent a shiver down his spine. "Aziraphale." 

"How did it go?"

"I don't have time. I have to finish something." His voice was cold, hollow, even to himself. 

He didn't look up to see how Aziraphale reacted. "O-oh. I see. What must you do?" 

"I have to finish the tree." 

"I thought you said-" 

"I was wrong."

He didn't give the Principality a chance to reply. He walked away. 

Told himself that he had to. 

It was that or Fall. He had to look at it that way. He had sworn to Aziraphale that he would have nothing to do with that tree, they had vowed together. 

But that was then, and this was now. 

He knew what he had to do with the tree, but he had yet to decide exactly what it would be.

All of the Archangels had been instructed to… insert a  _ quality _ into the tree. He knew that Gabriel's had been loyalty, Uriel gave creativity, Michael refused to tell them what she had given, and that Lucifer  _ had  _ given something and Michael was working with the Metatron to see if it could be removed. 

Raphael supposed he was supposed to give something admirable. Kindness or empathy or something associated with a Healer. 

But leaned up against the apple tree, none of those appealed to him. 

He knew what he would give. And it was probably foolish, could even get him into trouble but he  _ believed  _ it was what he was meant to give. 

He pressed a hand against the rough bark and whispered. "Curiosity."

His palm started to burn. First it smarted, and then it felt as though he had thrust his hand into a burning flame, like the skin on his hand was about to start peeling. 

The sensation spread up his arm, he cried out and fell to the ground but his hand remained glued to the bark. He couldn’t pull it away as pain continued to sear through his arm. 

And just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. His hand fell from the bark. The palm was red and blistered. He clutched it to his chest. 

His handprint was burned into the bark of the tree.

Had it hurt his siblings? Surely Gabriel would have warned him if it did. His little brother knew he had chosen to wait, and it had been under the guise of deciding what to give, not refusing the task. He believed Gabriel would have told him everything about it. 

Frustrated, Raphael snapped his fingers and instructed the wound to heal. He may keep the scratches on his wrist, but this could go. 

Nothing happened. The blistered skin stayed angry and red. 

So he wasn't allowed to heal it.

Above his head, the only apple the tree currently bore finished ripening. 

It had been sitting, most of the way to ripe, for days now. 

He stood and ran his burned fingertips across the bright red skin. 

More than anything, he wanted to pluck the apple from its branch and throw it as far away as he could. 

But he knew he couldn't do that, and he knew it wouldn't help. 

He spread his blue wings and took flight, fleeing his own completed task. 

When he arrived in Heaven, he snuck into the infirmary and bound his burned hand in clean white bandages, then set out to find Gabriel as quickly as he could. 

In the end, Gabriel found him. "Raphael?" 

"Brother." 

Raphael still refused to look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Raphael didn’t answer.

"Was it the task? Did the Metatron say something to you? I believe the Almighty got the message across," Gabriel said, holding onto his brother's hand. "What's bothering you?" 

"It's not the task. It's the Metatron. They gave me a reminder."

Gabriel looked confused. "A reminder? What kind of a reminder? Besides, I hardly think you need one." 

"Well, the Metatron gave me one anyways. And not one I'm likely to forget."

Raphael finally looked up, looked his younger brother in the eyes. 

Gabriel couldn't help but stare in horror. A gasp slipped through his teeth.

Some angels had strange eyes compared to what the humans would look like, just a little beyond God's image. His own were a violet he suspected no human would ever possess, however Michael's were green, and Uriel's were brown. Samael's had been black.

Raphael's had always been pale gold. Many Archangels had gold in their appearances, and Raphael's had been in his soft and gentle eyes, though the way the light caught his cheeks made Gabriel think his freckles were too. 

Unlike the angels, the fallen's eyes changed. Some became beastial, animalistic, some completely black. He had seen demons with eyes that changed colours, that lacked colours, who's pupils were red or white or absent, or who's scleras were no longer white or even present. Eyes meant to strike fear into the very souls of those who beheld them.

And his brother, with the lovely golden eyes, was staring at him with the gaze still spun of gold, but it was a much harsher colour. 

All there were to interrupt the gold were thin, slitted pupils. 

His brother was staring at him with the eyes of a serpent. 

The eyes of a demon.

Gabriel was not normally known for thinking fast, but he swallowed his horror and worked out a plan in his head.

"As far as anyone else is concerned, you got hurt," Gabriel said frantically, wrapping a strip of cloth around his brother's face. 

"What, the Archangel of healing can't fix his own eyes for the rest of eternity?" 

Gabriel sighed. "I have an idea. We have to tell our siblings what happened, but other than that we just have to get you to them and then it's not a problem. The general masses can't find out about this, but our siblings ought to know."

Raphael didn't say anything, but Gabriel could tell he wanted to disagree. "I know you don't want to, Raphael, but they're our siblings and they should know. As for the other angels, I have a plan. The Metatron has commanded that an angel must be sent down to earth once the humans are there, and must stay there until the end. Be Heaven's agent, as it were. I propose we send you. The humans don't know that-"

"That I'm not supposed to look like this. And how will we explain sending one of the highest ranking- at least according to the other angels, you and I know I'm on thin ice- down to earth for the duration of humanity?"

"You're the healer, Raphael, and they're to be tested. They will be hurt, they will need you. I have it all worked out, I just need to talk to Michael. She'll talk with Uriel and Sandalphon." 

His brother didn't seem to dare to argue. "Now hurry up, do a miracle so that you can see through that and we should go." 

There were a few seconds pause. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" 

"I mean I can't miracle them!" 

Gabriel frowned, walked over and tried to do it himself. "Anything?" 

"No!" Raphael was starting to sound panicked. "I- I don't think I can, anymore… or I could hide them…"

It checked out, if they were meant to be a constant reminder. Gabriel took a deep breath. "That's alright. I'll just have to guide you to our siblings and then it won't be a problem." 

Gabriel grabbed his hand and began gently leading him down the halls. 

His brother's hand was shaking. Gabriel didn't have the words to say to make it stop, he knew his brother was terrified. They both were. 

So he stayed silent. They both had reason to be afraid. 

"Gabriel? Raphael?" Amitiel ran up to the two of them, concern plain on their face. "Raphael, are you alright? I should bring you to the infirmary, one of your healers could-"

"I'll be able to handle it myself," Raphael seemed to be waiting for a name.

Of course, he couldn't  _ see  _ who he was talking to, and the sudden loss and then influx in the number of angels made it hard to recognize them by presence alone. "They're Amitiel, brother." 

The angel of truth. Just what they needed while pulling off heaven's biggest lie yet. 

"Amitiel, don't worry about it. Gabriel was just taking us somewhere a little more private where I can assess the damage. I  _ am  _ the healer of the Almighty's angels, I ought to be able to take care of my own wounds."

"Then why has your wrist been bleeding? Surely you could have fixed it. And your hand!" 

Raphael didn't have an answer for that. Gabriel decided to improvise. "Really, Amitiel, he'll be fine, you needn't worry. Go along and assist the other angels, we have business to attend to." 

He put his best authoritative snap into his tone, hoping to remind the angel with whom he was speaking. 

Amitiel didn't look convinced, but he didn't push any further. 

Gabriel finished guiding his brother over to his office. Opened the door, sat his brother in the seat behind the desk. "Stay here, I'll come back for you once I've explained." 

Raphael nodded. Gabriel pulled the cloth off his eyes, kissed his brother's forehead, right below the start of his ginger curls, and turned to walk away. 

Turned back, a curious expression wrinkling his face. "I think I can get used to them like that." 

He'd meant it as encouragement, reassurance that it wasn't as bad as it seemed, and luckily turned around before he saw that his words caused tears to glisten in his older brother's eyes.

He closed and locked the door to his office to afford his brother some privacy, and walked across the hall to Michael's.

Knocked three times on the door before his older sister pulled it open. "Gabriel?" 

"I need to come in, there's something you need to know about." 

"Little brother, are you well?" She asked, concern in her gaze. 

"I'm afraid you only have one brother who is, at the moment, and he's not the one I've currently got in my office." 

"Why have you got one of our brothers in your office, Gabriel? And which one? Are you being too hard on Sandalphon again? I know you're older than him, but Raphael and I treated you with more kindness than you treat he and Uriel. Really, he's so new you must-"

"It's Raphael in my office. You should sit down."

The door sprang open and Raphael buried his face in his arms. 

Firstly, because if it was somehow not one of his siblings, he couldn't let them see what had become of him. 

Second, because even if it was his siblings, he didn't want them to see that he'd been crying. 

Michael seemed to know anyways. She rushed over and bundled him into her arms, gently running her fingers through his hair. "It's alright, brother, it's going to be alright…" she murmured. 

Raphael didn't answer. He buried his face in her shoulder and tried to deny that the wet spot soaking into her sleeve was his tears. Wrapped his arms tightly around his sister, as tightly as he could. His hands shook violently. 

Michael was ever the same older sister she had always been, and just held him tighter as well. "It's going to be alright. We didn't lose you too, that's what's important." 

It didn't stop the sudden influx of shame swirling through the Archangel's insides. 

This was no simple vanity issue. His eyes were the least of his concerns. 

He had nearly  _ Fallen.  _ Nearly joined the ranks of demons his brother Samael had dragged down to Hell with him during the Revolution. 

How could he not be ashamed? What else could he feel? 

He wasn't  _ good enough  _ to be an angel. God had told him that specifically. Certainly not good enough to be an Archangel. Only Gabriel's sacrifice had saved him from his terrible fate. 

He had  _ failed.  _ He hadn’t just come close, he had  _ failed.  _ He only sat where he currently was because Gabriel had been willing to risk everything to save him.

It seemed as though his sister could sense what he was thinking. She rubbed his back, squeezed him tighter. "Things are going to be okay. They're going to get better, brother."

"I told her the plan, Raphael. She's agreed to it." 

"We'll take your reports in person. Both to avoid someone finding out and to get to see you, brother. By the final war, this shouldn't matter anymore, you'll have more than proved yourself to be on Heaven's side."

"I am on Heaven's side!" Raphael said miserably. "I never meant- I didn't want-" 

His voice choked off and he sobbed into Michael's shoulder. His sister shushed him, ran a hand along his back. 

"I know. And I believe you, I promise. But this is necessary. Gabriel is right,” she whispered, holding him close. 

“I know.” 

“Brother, this doesn’t have to change anything. You can still be a good angel, Raphael, you can still-”

Raphael just gave a hiccuping sob, and Michael stopped. Gabriel pressed a hand to his shoulders. “It’s going to be alright. I’m going to go confirm this with the Metatron, you stay here with him, Michael,” He instructed.

A few minutes later, the door closed. Gabriel had left. 

Michael sighed. “Will you let me see?”

Raphael shook his head. 

Bad enough that Gabriel had seen. Bad enough that he had to live with this for the rest of eternity. 

No one else needed to see. 

Maybe it was vanity, perhaps he should have agreed. But Michael didn’t comment. She just let him cry into her shoulder, held onto him until Gabriel had returned to escort him to the garden.

“Things will get better, brother. They always do.”

“Come on, we need to go. Michael will go check on you in the Garden, soon,” Gabriel promised. “You’re not going to have to get through this alone, I promise.”

Raphael sniffled, wiped his eyes. Stepped out of the room with Gabriel. 

"This was the Metatron's idea of a good assignment for you, too. They agreed quickly, said if I hadn't suggested it they would have forced it. This is going to work out. No one else has to know, and we’ll be able to keep you safe. The Metatron left your supervision in my hands, figures with both of our fates on the line I’ll keep you in line.  _ Not _ that I think I’m going to have to." 

“I only asked about… about-”

“You shouldn’t tell me.” 

Raphael nodded. 

“Like I said, I don’t think I’m going to have to supervise you much. I trust you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have agreed to Mother’s conditions.”

The pressure of the deal was dizzying. 

Gabriel’s fate was tied to his. If he screwed up, it wasn’t just him who would pay.

"C- can I have a chance to say goodbye? To-"

Gabriel shook his head sadly. "He can't find out. Not yet." 

"I want him to. I don't care if he knows. He won’t tell anyone and-" 

"I know. But this needs to blow over before I risk another member of the Host finding out. Healer or not, you were right, this is going to draw attention. We shouldn’t be sending such a high-ranking angel to Earth, it’s going to cause questions we can’t answer. When all is passed over, and I don’t think it will spread through the Host, I’ll tell Aziraphale and send him to find you, okay?” 

Raphael nodded. 


	27. Sinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Sinners](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eoYDzJFqqqE)

_ You showed me feelings I've never felt before _

_ We're making enemies, knocking on the devil's door _

_ But how can you expect me not to eat, _

_ When the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet? _

_ So let's be sinners to be saints _

_ And let's be winners by mistake _

_ The world may disapprove _

_ But my world is only you _

_ And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me _

"My dear, I'm sorry if this upsets you but… I'm afraid I don't understand why you say my Fall was your fault. Because you snubbed me in the Garden of Eden when you and your brother's futures were on the line?" Azra asked, puzzled. “I know you said I Fell because you didn’t, but I don’t see how even if that is true, you directly  _ caused _ my Fall.”

It wasn't the right thing to ask.

Raphael just buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Clearly, he wasn’t going to get to understand why the angel blamed himself until he convinced said angel to relax. This was obviously something that had been bothering Raphael a long time. 

Azra sighed and lifted Raphael off the couch and into his arms. “This isn’t your fault, dear. You didn’t cause my Fall. I gave in to something your brother said. He tempted me away from the Almighty, it had nothing to do with you. Who told you this was your fault?” 

“No one,” Raphael whispered. “No one told me. I found you on the wall and I knew.” 

"Why do you think you caused it? Because you had to go perform a task the Almighty ordered you to?" 

"We had promised not to have anything to do with the tree…" Raphael sniffled. "I had sworn to you that I'd have nothing to do with the tree anymore and- and I broke my promise and the next thing I knew you had Fallen!" He cried.

Azra tried to connect that logic. "I gave up, dear. I gave in. You had nothing to do with it."

"I gave you a reason to give in." 

"Do you know why I Fell, dear?" Azra asked softly, nuzzling into Raphael's long red hair. The angel didn’t squirm away, to his surprise. 

"Lucifer… may have eluded, once. Or rather, a demon he sent…" Raphael murmured. Buried his face in Azra’s chest. 

"And what did he say?" 

"That you listened to Lucifer because I had betrayed you." The angel murmured, sniffled. 

"I doubt that's what happened," Azra scoffed. "Your story hardly involves you betraying me."

"How would you know, you don't remember your Fall! And there's- there's the plan… and…"

"What plan?" 

"The plan Lucifer stole! He told me once that God didn't have kind plans for us, to try and tempt me into reading it. I never did, and I thought this was what he meant but- but- at the airbase…" Raphael trailed off, eyes bright with tears as one hand drifted subconsciously to the scar in his stomach.

Azra sighed. "What did he say to you at the airbase?" 

"It was meant to be me." 

"You who Fell, instead of me?” Azra asked, puzzled. 

“The plan didn’t involve Gabriel interfering.  _ You  _ were supposed to stay safe, to stay an angel. It was me who was supposed to Fall.  _ I’m  _ the one who deserved it,” Raphael murmured. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were  _ perfect.” _

"I wouldn't want you to Fall, dear. If asked you or me, I would choose myself to Fall every single time. You're not made to be a demon," Azra said simply, stroking his bright red hair. "You're far too good to be a demon."

"So are you."

Azra sighed. "But I'm not good enough to be an angel, either. Listen, Raphael, you could walk right up to me, right before Gabriel interfered, and tell me that if I went and distracted Gabriel for a few minutes I would be safe, but you would Fall, and I would find Gabriel just to send him to you faster," he promised. "I would never want you to Fall. No matter what it cost me."

"I- I can't stand to think- what you must have gone through, because of me!" Raphael sniffled. 

"You've been through something, too. Heaven hasn't been kind to you. You've suffered just as I have, only in different ways,” Azra soothed. “I would trade anything to take that sufference for you. Raphael, I'm  _ glad  _ to have been able to take this for you. The Almighty has taken enough from you, and I'm glad to have been able to spare you this. You haven't deserved what you've been through since the Creation of the World. And if trial and tribulation are tests from God Herself, then you're the only damn angel still worthy of Her Grace."

He wasn’t going to get through to the Archangel in one afternoon. He was starting to realize that this was something Raphael had believed since the beginning of time, for the last six thousand years.

He couldn't crack through that in one afternoon. "Listen, angel. I don't believe you've done anything wrong. But if you do, I promise you, I forgive you. I don't blame you for this. Not one bit. I blamed everyone but myself for the Fall for a long time, dear, and it was never true. It was never right. My Fall  _ was  _ my fault and I want you to know that if you feel at all responsible, you can wash your hands of it. I forgive you."

"I should have stopped. I should have told you." 

"If I had known what happened to you, I would have Fallen more easily," Azra said vehemently. "Lucifer wouldn't have had to tempt me away, that would have robbed me of my faith without your brother breathing a word." 

Raphael stared up at him in disbelief. "Over my wrongdoings?" 

"You never commit a wrongdoing," Azra murmured. "You were right about that damned tree all along. You made all of your choices perfectly, I don't care what it cost me." 

"How can you say that?" 

"Because you're worth more than Heaven to me, angel. You're more important to me than the Pearly Gates, more worthy than God Almighty, more precious to me than anything Heaven could offer. I  _ love  _ you more than anything else."

"Ngk- Azra, you can't just  _ say  _ things like that!" Raphael almost laughed through his sobbing. "Especially when you know-"

"You can't say it back, not that way. Not without Falling. And that's fine, angel. You have your own ways of saying it, and I do so look forward to learning them. Mine just so happen to often involve blasphemy." 

"Did you mean it?" He asked quietly. 

"Mean what? That I love you? Of course!" 

"That you forgive me. That I can somehow- that I'm still forgivable." 

Azra smiled. "Angel, we both know I'm the unforgivable one, it's in my job description. I forgive you." 

Raphael sobbed anew, but Azra wasn't convinced it was the same sort of sobbing. The angel's words confirmed this thought seconds later. 

"Thank you," he breathed, mouth pressed against Azra's shirt, he felt the angel's breath before he heard his words. "I was- I've been- I never thought-" 

"That I would forgive you." 

Azra hated going along with the idea that Raphael had done something wrong in the first place, but it seemed to be his best option for the time being. 

Raphael nodded. 

"How could I not? You're  _ everything  _ to me. Apparently, you have been all my life." 

"Sometimes- I- I wish that you remembered. All the wonderful things before the world became complicated." 

Azra pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Perhaps someday I will. I should like to remember the first time I fell in love with you. The time when I didn't have to spend six thousand years in denial about it."

They sat in silence for a time. "Why do you not resent me for how I treated you, Raphael? Over all the years?" 

"You were  _ right.  _ I- I played games with the children during the flood, but I never told you about the one I flew up onto a cliff." 

"You saved one?" 

Raphael was quiet for a while. Azra wondered what bothered them so much to make them fall to silence, but didn't dare to try and pry. He let the angel come out with it as his leisure. "No. Gabriel saw what happened, he… I don't know what happened to her. But she didn't live. Gabriel wouldn't have let her live. I closed my eyes, and she was gone. It was just Gabriel and I," he wiped his eyes. "And it happened again in Egypt. When the Pharoah ordered the deaths of all the infants, I wasn't allowed to save anyone but Moses. You were  _ right,  _ I had just as much a play in that as you did. I could have stopped it. I could have  _ done  _ something, Gabriel told me what would happen before it did. I had power, I had  _ influence  _ in Egypt. They thought I was a bloody  _ god  _ and I didn't do anything! I just let them  _ die!"  _

"You had to do what Gabriel said, Raphael. You had good reason to obey." 

"You wouldn't have. Besides, can we really say I didn't resent you when I discorporated you in Egypt?" 

"I very much deserved it. I was trying to irk you, Raphael. Maybe I was trying to make you Fall, maybe I was just trying to dishearten the enemy, I don't know what I was trying to do. But I don't  _ blame  _ you for discorporating me. Sure, fifty years is a long time to spend on paperwork, but I… well, how would the humans put it… poked the- oh, what is it?"

"Badger." 

"You're not a badger, you're a serpent, dear." 

"The saying, it's poked the badger." 

"Very well. I poked the...badger, as you say, and was not surprised when I got bit," Azra promised. "Truly, I more than deserved what I got." 

"I wished I hadn't done it." 

"There's no sense wishing you hadn't done something that happened nearly six thousand years ago. But I understand the feeling. I wish I hadn't goaded you. You were doing all you could." 

"It was never enough." 

Azra sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That's alright. Because your hands aren't tied anymore. You can do as you please. Forget the past, you have the future to make up for it."

"What do we do now?" Raphael dared ask. "Who do I help? Who do you tempt?"

"Whoever we find deserving. We have the rest of our existences with just each other. We're not held to anyone else's standards anymore. We can do what seems right." 

Raphael pondered that, blew a strand of red hair out of his face. Azra brushed his thumbs under the angel's eyes, brushed away tears. "I like that." 

"Good. And the first order of business is for me to help you. You need to relax, dear. I know you're worked up and these last few days were hard for you, and you've been so  _ so  _ brave getting through it, but the hard part is over now and you can relax. I'm going to make some tea for the both of us." 

"I drink coffee." 

"You drink coffee-flavoured sugar. And if you drink the tea, maybe I'll whip you up one of your mochas. But for now, you get some tea, a warm blanket, and a chance for me to actually read  _ Romeo and Juliet _ to you without being interrupted." 

Despite the tenseness that still held his shoulders like a vice, Raphael managed to smile. "Here I thought you enjoyed that interruption." 

"I never said I didn't." 

"A very human invention, that particular interruption," Raphael mused. They looked up at Azra. 

It took him a second to catch on. "You're reassuring me that it never happened before. When I don't remember." 

Raphael nodded. "It feels like so many of your chances at firsts were stolen from you. I wanted you to know you kept that one." 

"Our firsts don't have to be the same for them to be important to us. Maybe someday they will be," Azra said gently. He patted the angel's knee. "Really, I don't mind that you have memories I don't. I hope if I never remember myself that someday, then you'll tell me about our time together. Now, I'm going to go put the kettle on. You stay here." 

Raphael nodded. Azra wrapped him up in a blanket he summoned into existence, kissed his forehead and stepped into the doorway. 

Raphael sighed and leaned up against the back of the couch. Azra walked all the way through the door and into the kitchen proper. 

He set the kettle on the stovetop, snapped his fingers to fill it with water and turn on the stove. 

He pulled down two mugs, one with little horns, one plain white because Raphael had never chosen a mug that he would like, and some tea. 

Chamomile. It was a bit too early in the afternoon for chamomile, but they were an angel and a demon, chamomile wouldn't have much more than a calming effect. 

The kettle didn't take too long to boil, simply because Azra couldn't fathom that it would, and he walked back into the main room with two mugs of tea soon enough. He sweetened Raphael's with honey.

Pressed it into the angel's hands. 

Raphael looked at it skeptically. "I seem to remember you offering wine."

"That was before you had a complete meltdown without any wine to help. We can break out the wine this evening, for you, you drink that." 

The angel sighed and sipped the tea before setting it on the coffee table. Azra went to sit across from him, he shook his head and beckoned for the demon to sit in front of him, on the floor. 

"Wings?" Raphael asked, resting his hands on Azra's shoulders. "It's been a long time since I've helped preen… anyone, but especially you." 

Azra supposed he had been rather distracted of late, and hadn't been taking care of his feathers the way he should have. "Only if I get to do yours after. All of yours, not just the set you normally use." 

"As if I'm going to say no to not having to go through them all myself," Raphael laughed. 

There was still an ache, some sadness, some pain bordering on his voice, but it was good to hear him laugh. Azra unfurled his wings, let them flap a couple of times before he stilled them so Raphael could go through them with soft and gentle fingers. 

"I imagine they've changed since the last time you went through them. A bit… darker, dare I say?" Azra asked. 

"I think they're lovely this way. They… they burned on the way down, didn't they?" He asked, plucking a bent and broken feather away as gently as he could. 

"They did. Some of us grew feathers again, some of us didn't. Those of us who did, they came back black. They took a long time to heal, hurt like the dickens." 

"I wish I had known. I would have done something." 

"You couldn't, Raphael. An angel can't end a demon's suffering without consequences." 

"I would have done it anyways. I don't believe I would have had a chance to think before I did. Would have been hard to explain, why an Archangel showed up out of nowhere and eased the pain of a demon who didn't remember him."

"It would have certainly made quite the story to look back at. Speaking of stories, what do you say I continue the one from last night?" 

"That sounds lovely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've lost a bunch of you, please do let me know if you're enjoying this!


	28. Just One Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Just One Yesterday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSfKSUd31MM)

_ If heaven’s grief brings hell’s rain _

_ Then I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday _

_ (I know I’m bad news) _

_ For just one yesterday _

_ (I saved it all for you) _

Azra didn't typically sleep. 

It was never something he had particularly enjoyed, and he honestly hadn't planned on sleeping tonight. 

He had read to Raphael until his wings were tidy and glossy, and then they had  _ tried  _ to switch but after a little painful stuttering as the poor Archangel tried to read the flowery Shakespearean writing with eyes not built for letters, they had resolved to just sit in silence while Azra went through Raphael’s bright blue feathers. 

Which had taken until dinner. Not that he minded whatsoever. He had always liked the angel’s wings. Raphael had proposed they go out, but Azra had compromised and simply ordered something in. He didn’t want to drag the angel around London after the day they’d had. 

After a nice meal which Raphael barely took part in, as usual, although he did enjoy the wine, he had picked up the book and resumed reading  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ until the angel was nearly fast asleep, beside him on the couch, head leaned against his shoulder and one hand pressed against his chest. 

So he had set the book to the side, picked Raphael up off the couch, he got his confirmation that the angel was exhausted when he didn’t protest, and carried him to the bedroom behind the bookshop. 

He glared at the bed that  _ was  _ there, but was covered in dust and books and various other things, and soon enough it was cleared off with new sheets and blankets. 

Laid Raphael down on the bed, sat down beside him. 

“You don’t have to stay…” Raphael said softly. “I know you don’t sleep,” he continued. 

“I slept last night, didn’t I?”

“That’s how I know you won’t sleep tonight,” Raphael replied. 

Azra just chuckled, kissed the angel’s hair. “Don’t you worry about me. Maybe I just want to be next to you, dear.” 

“At least get a book or something, so I don’t feel bad keeping you here.”

Azra sighed and grabbed a book off the table beside the bed. “Better, Raphael?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

The angel nodded and closed his eyes, face half-buried in the pillows. Azra pulled the blankets up over Raphael’s shoulders, and within a few minutes, the angel was asleep. 

Azra started out reading the book he picked up, but found after about an hour or so that the silence and the cozy blankets and the warmth radiating off the angel beside him was making him tired as well. 

He didn’t normally sleep, but after another hour he gave in, set the book to the side and burrowed under the blankets, one hand just barely touching Raphael’s. 

He was asleep before he knew it. 

**So you wish to remember. That could possibly be arranged.**

For a moment, Azra didn’t realize he was dreaming. He thought that something had woken him, glanced beside him to check on Raphael only for him not to be there, for him not to be lying on his back in bed but on a cold marble floor, staring straight up and an arched white ceiling. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again. 

The landscape was the same. 

Carefully, he picked himself off the ground, dusted himself off. 

Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t wearing the pyjamas he had switched his clothes to when he had realized he was going to go to sleep.

He was wearing a white robe. 

And he  _ knew _ the voice talking to him, from a long long time ago. 

**Your memories, in fact, were not taken because I ordered them so at all. That was entirely part of my son’s torment of his brother. I would not protest being asked to restore them, if you agree to my proposition.**

Azra eyed whoever was speaking suspiciously. 

He couldn’t get a good fix on Her features, or even how tall She was, what colour She was. She seemed to shift before his eyes hundreds of times per second, never settling, never stilling. 

“Your son… you- you are- you’re not supposed to be speaking to me.” 

The Almighty laughed, a pure, almost childish laugh.  **On the contrary, Aziraphale. You were never meant to be taken from me at all.**

“I go by Azra now,” the demon said, almost terrified to correct Her, but he didn’t necessarily like where this was going and felt a need to assert himself somehow.

She smiled.  **Azra, then. Regardless, you were never meant to not be mine.**

“But I’m not. Should you not be speaking to Raphael, instead? He  _ is  _ the one who remained your angel. If there is news from Heaven meant for Earth, it should go to him.” 

**This is not news for Earth, Azra. This is news for no one but you. I have an offer to make you.**

Azra eyed Her suspiciously. “What sort of an offer?”

**An offer to restore the natural order of things. You were never meant to Fall, my offer is simple. You will be restored to your former Grace, even promoted beyond your former rank. Things will be as they should have been.**

Azra’s mouth when dry.

To say he hadn’t dreamt of redemption would be a lie. Sure, he had told Raphael yesterday that he knew he was better off as a demon, but he wondered if he wouldn’t think differently had he remained an angel. 

Perhaps some part of him wished to have the same blind faith Raphael had clung to. The faith that had allowed Raphael to face the atrocities of the past. 

He wanted to say yes. “Restored?”

**Indeed. One word from me, and you shall be the Principality Aziraphale again, never to suffer another day in Hell. You would be safe and loved by Heaven.**

He couldn’t deny it was tempting.

But at the same time, nothing in life was ever that simple. Azra could smell a catch, and he didn’t appreciate not being informed of it. “Things will be as they should have been? What does that mean?”

**Things will be as I wrote them in the Ineffable Plan.**

Something about the way she said that made Azra’s skin crawl.

But still, he could hardly resist instantly agreeing to the tempting offer. The offer to be freed from the last tails of Hell’s possession, and if he were to be an angel again, then Raphael would not be in trouble. Raphael would have no transgression, not if the Almighty wasn’t already mentioning resetting what they had done during Armageddon. 

He thought about how Raphael would react if Azra were to be returned to an angel, were to remember. As much as some stubborn part of him wanted to deny it, he knew the angel would be thrilled. 

It felt like he almost owed it to Raphael, who had spent the last six thousand years alone with the memories of the past, the last six thousand years suffering in silence and he could finally alleviate the pain fully, if he only agreed. “You would restore me.”

**I would, in a heartbeat. You were never meant to Fall away from me in the first place, I would gladly restore you.**

His mouth was open to accept when he remembered something Raphael had told him. 

In the Ineffable Plan, it was Raphael who fell, and Azra who remained an angel. And the Almighty spoke of restoring the Ineffable Plan. “And what does that mean for Raphael?”

The Almighty seemed surprised to hear that he had thought to ask.  **His fate will also be restored, as it should have been. Gabriel ruined the natural balance I had created. Now I offer you a chance to benefit from it by setting it right. With one word, we will go back to that moment. Gabriel will be busy, things will pass as they should have, and all will be right with the world. And you will remember** **_everything_ ** **you wish to remember. It will be as though the last six thousand years had never happened.**

Azra thought for a second that he should worry about how he phrased the next bit, decided he had no reason to. “So You want me to trade my suffering for his?” He demanded, “that’s the offer You’re giving me? I won’t have suffered for the last six thousand years, but Raphael will have? And I’ll know that I chose that?”

**You wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t have you remember this dream. You will never know you made this choice, and thus, you can make it as selfishly as you want. You have suffered enough, and I intend to offer you this chance. You will feel no guilt over your decision, everything will go back to before you Fell.**

Azra scoffed. “Oh and that makes it all better? I won’t remember damning Raphael to hellfire and pain? With all due respect,  _ God _ , you can take this offer and stick it!” He snapped. 

The Almighty looked shocked, but Azra wasn’t done. “I have no interest in a deal that dooms Raphael to suffer like I have for the last six thousand years. I will take this fate and serve it happily, and You ought to be ashamed at even thinking of offering this deal!”

**You suppose to lecture me?**

“I do! And I already have, and I only have one more thing to say.  _ Fuck You. _ Don’t bother us again. Raphael is the best damned angel You have and if You won’t see it and want to throw him away, I won’t be Your damned excuse. You leave me out of it. And if You cast him away, I assure You, he’s never going to feel the wretched  _ emptiness _ You allowed the Fallen to be cursed with, because if  _ You  _ won’t love him, I damned well will! More than You ever have! He’s  _ never _ going to feel the abandonment You shackled me with, not on my watch!” Azra snarled, venting all the anger he had pent up over the last couple of days, after hearing all that Raphael had been through. “I don’t agree. My bloody memories aren’t worth that.” 

He tried to storm away, only to realize he had no idea how to get out of this dream that was not a dream. “Let me  _ go,” _ he hissed. “And don’t come back.”

The Almighty’s face was cold.  **You know how to leave.**

Azra didn’t even bother to look back up at her. He smashed his foot into the marble floor, watched it fissure and crack under his heel, watched it split open and send him spiralling towards the Earth. 

It didn’t burn this time. The air rushing by him was welcome this time. He simply closed his eyes, allowed the wind to howl around his ears. He didn't open his wings, he wasn't afraid to Fall anymore. He allowed himself to plummet until he wasn’t falling anymore, something had caught him. 

Something soft and warm, something familiar even as his stomach dropped like a pit and he felt a little nauseous. 

Something was frantically shaking his shoulder.

He opened his eyes.

Raphael was awake, shaking his shoulder. “Azra? Azra are you alright? You were talking in your sleep,” she said gently, golden eyes full of concern. “You seemed angry...” 

“It was nothing, dear. You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

“It’s morning. I was going to try my hand at cooking some breakfast,” Raphael admitted, “I was surprised you were asleep and wanted a chance to surprise you with breakfast but you were talking and I got worried about you.”

“Just an odd dream.” 

Azra wondered if he should tell the angel what it had been about. 

Decided to ease into it. “Raphael? I don’t mean to upset you, but when was the last time God spoke to you?”

“I think you know when. She didn’t want much to do with me after that, so she left me to the Metatron to handle. She already wasn’t talking to us angels, I barged in and interrupted her.”

“I think she spoke to me in my dream.”

Raphael’s eyes went wide. “About what?” 

Azra couldn’t tell if she was excited or angry or upset or  _ what _ the Archangel was feeling, but he knew he couldn’t make it worse. If he told her why God had wanted to speak to him, what he had told her about her offer, Raphael would only feel worse about who had Fallen and who had not. 

He had to keep that to himself. “Not a lot. I think She’s going to leave us alone now. She had something to offer me, but I wasn’t interested.” 

“What did She offer you?”

“Nothing I wanted.” 

Thankfully, Raphael decided not to pry. She stared down at him in concern for a few more seconds, then pressed a kiss to his lips and slid off the bed.

“Where are you running off to?”

“To try and make heads or tails of your kitchen. Are you going to lose your mind if I do a miracle?”

“Are you going to start bleeding?”   
“Probably.”

“What do you need, Raphael.” 

She gestured at her slept-in clothes. “To get straightened up, Azra. I’m a mess and don’t have spare clothes here.” 

“Any preferences? Because I have one.”

“Oh, you go ahead and put me back in that pencil skirt I wore as Nanny Anne, I can tell you’re dying to, you old pervert.” 

“I’ve never once tried to choose what you wore!”

“I’m kidding around, Azra. But seriously, it feels like I could do the skirt today.”

“And you’re just trying to blame it on me, a poor old demon.” Azra snapped his fingers and handed Raphael the clothes hanger that appeared in his hand. 

“Thank you, dear,” Raphael stepped out of the room, and reappeared a few minutes later, dressed in fresh clothes. “What do you want for breakfast, Azra?”

“What do you know how to cook?”

“Nothing, I don’t eat.” 

“Then how do you figure you’re going to cook breakfast, angel?”

Raphael shrugged. “I was just hoping that it would all work out in the end.”

“Alright, I’m coming to help you, because that’s going to need a miracle and I would prefer not have your nosebleed in my crepes,” Azra laughed, standing up, snapping his fingers and finding himself properly dressed. He walked over to Raphael and kissed her forehead. 

“You don’t  _ know _ that it would have taken a miracle. Maybe I could have worked it out without a miracle and wound up being fine! Completely nosebleed-less crepes!” 

“Oh, hush and let me help you, dear,” Azra said gently. Wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her into the kitchen. "It'll be fun. We can cook together, make some crepes, maybe you should actually  _ try  _ them this time. We can put strawberries and chocolate on them."

"Why are you always giving me such a hard time about eating? I like coffee and wine well enough, I've just never particularly liked food."

"Well, maybe you'll enjoy the fruit of your own labours more. Come on, grab the eggs, we'll get started," Azra prompted. 


	29. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Power](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HerfW8Z18-M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're on the second to last chapter! This is the end of the plot, the next chapter is just a happy summary with something that made me laugh.

Raphael did eat the crepes, at Azra's insistence. As Azra had promised, they were smothered in chocolate spread and strawberries. 

They tasted like ash in her mouth, but she didn't tell Azra that. The demon seemed so pleased that she was eating. 

She had hidden in the kitchen and gulped down a glass of wine, as fast as she could so that Azra wouldn't know. She wanted something to dull her senses. 

Then she had returned to the cozy back corner of the shop.

Azra finished reading  _ Romeo and Juliet _ , and Raphael tried to pay attention, she really did. 

But she was distracted. 

_ God had spoken to Azra. _ About what? What had the Almighty had to offer the demon, what did She want with him? 

Part of her wished the Almighty had spoken to her instead, but she knew that was selfish. She knew it was selfish and wrong to wish that the Almighty would have spoken to her again, but she so missed that voice, when it was so full of love and  _ knowledge.  _

She wanted to hear it again. Even if the last time she had, it hadn't been a kind, loving voice. 

She felt like a child, longing for her mother. A misbehaving child who still longed for her mother, knowing full well it would lead to sufferance.

And if Azra noticed her discomfort, he didn't mention it. He continued reading, words that Raphael had cared enough about to help craft them, but now didn't care enough to listen to.

She sat twitching in her seat until she couldn't sit still anymore. "I have to go." 

Azra looked at though he might protest, but Raphael didn't give him a chance. She leapt to her feet, straightened her skirt and rushed out the door. 

Slammed it behind her and realised she had no idea where to go now, she had just needed to get out of the bookshop. 

She didn't like the uncomfortable feeling that was gnawing at her insides, didn't like the bike riding up in her throat. 

Was it jealousy? Was that it? Was she jealous that God had spoken to Azra and not her? 

Or did it just  _ hurt  _ to be brutally reminded the Almighty seemed to want nothing to do with her? Even less than she wanted to do with a demon? 

It was hard to say, she just knew that something inside was  _ aching  _ with pain, that something inside was  _ wrong.  _

Her feet carried her to a small, rundown chapel, with a little brass bell in the wooden bell tower, and with chipping, white-painted barn boards lining the outside walls. 

The church was deserted. Raphael took a deep breath, asked herself if this was really what she wanted to do. 

It was. She bent down and removed her shoes, held them by the heels with two fingers. 

Gave the door a gentle push, found that it swung open without issue. 

The church was dark, with rays of sunshine filtering in the old stained glass windows. It spotted against the floor and the old wooden pews, painted white with the paint worn off where people sat, caught the dust in the air as it slowly floated around. 

A thick layer of dust covered the worn floorboards that Raphael's feet seemed to almost sink into, as though her feet fell exactly where countless others had before. She left footprints behind her as she went. 

One one wall, there hung a picture frame, that used to contain a verse. 

The verse itself had long since fallen from the frame. Raphael walked over to it, knelt to pick it up. 

_ For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. _

_ Romans, 3:23-24 _

She let the paper slide out of her hands. 

The message didn't apply to her. She had fallen short, yes, but there was no redemption through Christ in store for her. She was ever to be held accountable for her actions. 

She stood, dusted off her knees and made her way to the front of the church. 

There was an ancient bible, long forgotten by the former tenants of the church, likewise covered in dust, laying open on the altar. 

The altar itself was simple, a fine wooden structure, painted white like everything else in the church, scratched and worn from extended use. 

Behind the altar was a cross, hung proudly upon the wall. 

Raphael padded over to it, knelt down before it. 

Prayer was a human thing. She had partaken before, but typically speaking, she was an angel and didn't need to pray for forgiveness, and didn't need to pray in order to be heard by Heaven. 

Still, on her knees with her hands folded before her, what she was doing could only be considered prayer. 

For a time, she was silent in her contemplation, knelt before the cross with her thoughts racing faster than her car typically did. 

When the words did tumble out, it was as though the floodgates had cracked and burst and now the outpour wouldn't stop. 

"Why was I created, if only to fail You, time and time again?" She whispered. "Why would You make these hands to sin, these lips to cast doubt rather than sing praises? Don't You know I only ever wanted to please You? Only ever wanted to make You proud?"

We called You  _ Mother,  _ long before the humans did, and that was how we saw You, as a mother, as the one we most sought to please and I have failed You again and again? Why would You permit my creation if You knew I would fail? And why allow Gabriel to save me, if it would lead to nigh but pain and sufferance for all of us! I would have Fallen for him, if You had told me! I would have taken his place in a heartbeat I'm not afraid to face my fate but I have to know why You bothered in the first place, knowing full well that You would claim to love me and then cast me out of Your sight!" 

Raphael found herself sobbing out her questions, tears streaking her face. She broke the iron-strong, white-knuckled clasp of her hands, and buried her face in them. 

How had everything gone so wrong? 

She cried until she didn't think she could cry anymore, until she had no tears left to shed. 

Then she turned her face to the high ceilings.

"Why?" She demanded, hiccuped. "If I couldn't live up to Your standards why not just  _ let me off the hook?  _ Even  _ Lucifer  _ must have been better than failing You every day of my existence!" 

Footsteps echoed down the floor of the church, shoes clacking on the wooden planks. 

She spun to see who approached. 

Gasped and scrambled to her feet when she realized who it was. "I- I thought you were to leave us alone! You  _ swore  _ to me that you would leave us alone!" 

"And did you really think that was going to happen? With what you put at stake for me?" Gabriel demanded. "You thought I could just let you off the hook? And then you come  _ here?  _ To a church! You felt you could come here?" 

“I haven’t Fallen, Gabriel, I would know, the ground isn’t burning my feet! I have every right to be here!” Raphael snapped in return. 

Gabriel laughed, a bitter sound that made her skin crawl. “The angel immune to Hellfire thinks she has every right to be in a church? You’re as unholy as that demon you love so much.” 

“At least I still know what love looks like. You seem to have forgotten since Mother disappeared!” 

“How  _ dare _ you? I  _ saved _ you!” 

“And that was the last time you seemed to know what love was! Piss off, Gabriel. I’m not under your thumb anymore, you can’t order me around like you used to. I’ll stay here as long as I bloody well want, and then I’ll leave and go back to the demon and there’s nothing you can do about it, because if you petition the Metatron to make me Fall, you’ll be spending the rest of eternity as a demon as well! Is that a sacrifice you’re willing to make? Because I’m sure Beezlebub would just  _ love _ having you as zer pet!” Raphael said, feet shifting with her agitation. 

Gabriel lurched back as though she had struck him. 

"I'm not  _ anyone's  _ pet."

"Good for you. Neither am I. Leave me alone, Gabriel. Or do you want to find out exactly what else I can do, not that I'm immune to Hellfire?" Raphael hissed, cocking an eyebrow and summoning her staff. Crowley narrowed his eyes and made to lunge at Gabriel.

Gabriel took a few more steps back. 

"Go on! Go!"

Gabriel shook his head. "There's one more thing you should know." 

Raphael glared at him. "I don't want to know anything you want to tell me." 

"I learned something interesting about Azra from Beelzebub. Something I hear he doesn't remember, and something you didn't witness. But if you don't want to know…" 

"Tell me," Raphael ordered. 

Gabriel leaned in and whispered the truth of the matter in her ear. 

It took all her strength just to stay upright. "G- just go, Gabriel. Just go!" 

This time, Gabriel listened. 

After a few deeps breaths to get her voice back, Raphael looked up at the ceiling. 

There was a large black bat hanging from one of the rafters, wings fidgeting. 

She had noticed it before, had decided to deal with it later. 

Now, it was later.

Raphael sighed. "If you're going to follow me and try to hide it, you shouldn't make faces at my brother behind his back, Azra. Normal bats don't make faces like that. Not to mention, flying foxes aren't found in England," she huffed. 

The bat didn't answer her. Raphael stood and stared at it, tapping her foot on the ground. 

Neither of them moved.

Finally, Raphael held out her arms. "Come here, your feet must be burning up. Just shrink down a little, you're not heavy but you're very awkward to carry around in this shape. And last time you tore a hole in my shirt with those claws of yours." 

The bat flapped down from the ceiling, hooked its claws into Raphael's shirt and settled against her chest. His blue eyes sparkled as he stared up at her.

"Don't get comfortable, I'm still mad at you for following me," she warned, walking them both out of the church. "And don't think your silent act is fooling me, I'm a bloody serpent I  _ know  _ you can talk in that shape." 

Azra still didn't answer her. 

Once they were outside and off the consecrated ground, Raphael plucked the bat off of her chest and placed it on the grass. "Alright, change back and tell me why you followed me!" 

Azra wasted no time. He shifted back, standing up and dusting himself off. "I was worried about you, Raphael!" He snapped. "I get that you're angry and I violated your trust but I was worried, dear, that you were going to do something reckless!"

"Are you satisfied?" Raphael asked, waving her arms dramatically. "Why are you so worried anyways?" 

"You spent all of yesterday sobbing in my arms, Raphael. I was worried about you because of that. And- and because I was afraid you would have the same visit I did." 

"From God? God isn't going to speak to me, Azra, she wants nothing to do with me! But why would you be afraid?"

"Because she made me an offer that I didn't want, but I was afraid you would accept it!" 

"What was the offer?" 

Azra groaned. "The Almighty wanted us to switch places, and I don't want that to happen. She said she would give me back my memories… if things went how the Ineffable Plan had worded them. If everything started again but with you Fallen and me an angel. And I  _ know  _ you would have agreed but I don't  _ want  _ that to happen. So I told her to piss off. I was worried that since I said no, she would offer you the same deal." 

Raphael didn't seem to have a voice for almost a minute. She stared at him in shock, throat closed up, tears in her eyes.

"You had a chance not to suffer, to have all the good back and not ever have to suffer like you did, and you gave it up for me?" 

"Of course I did. And I don't want you to agree to it. Things are better this way, alright? I'm sorry I followed you. It was wrong, I should have trusted you but I was  _ afraid. _ You can stay angry with me if you like, but will you allow me to at least bring you home? If you're ready to come home?" 

Raphael contemplated that. "Sit down, you have consecrated burns on your feet. I can't heal them but I can help," she said, neglecting to answer Azra's question. 

"Can't be worse than when you walked in the no-longer-church for me during World War II, now can it?" 

"And that was pretty bad. I could barely walk for a month. Sit down, Azra, let me do my bloody job." 

"It's never been your job to heal demons, dear," Azra reasoned, but he sat down anyways, let Raphael strip off his shoes and socks and murmur a quick blessing. 

The burns hurt worse for a few quick seconds, miracles were never pleasant for demons, and then the pain faded significantly. 

Blood dripped out of the corner of the Archangel’s right eye. She wiped it away, smeared it across her cheek.

"Thank you, dear. That feels much better. Now, would you rather I leave you be so that you can continue your walk, or will you come back home with me?" 

"I don't want to stay in London," Raphael said abruptly. Rather than answer him, she sat down on the grass beside him. "We've been here long enough, in the center of human development, stuck in the thick of everything. I think I'd like to go somewhere quiet. At least for a little while." 

"I'm sure it would be lovely, dear. Where would you like to go?" 

"I'm not sure yet," Raphael admitted. 

They sat in silence in the soft green grass for a time. 

"Would you tell me what Gabriel told you?" Azra asked, "it's alright if you don't want to. It just seemed to upset you, dear." 

Raphael laid back against the grass. Azra placed his hand beside the angel's, but let Raphael close the gap and squeeze his fingers. 

"He told me exactly what Lucifer said to you to make you Fall. He used me against you. Told you that if I went to finish the tree, then the promises I made you meant nothing, that  _ you  _ meant nothing and- and that I was always going to choose Heaven over what was truly right or wrong.  _ That's  _ what made you Fall." 

"Well, I don't reckon I Fell for doubting God, even if that is the case. Sounds to me as though I Fell for selfishness. What was I thinking, expecting you to choose me over your divine purpose? Not to mention… in the dream, the Almighty mentioned selfishness being permitted in my decision. As though she expected me to be selfish at heart. But I won't be. Not for you. I was  _ wrong  _ to expect that from you, Raphael. I never will again." 

Raphael rolled onto her side, stared up at him. "I would put you first, now. I should have then." 

"It doesn't matter anymore. We have forever, anyways."

Azra laid down in the grass beside her. "So, out of London? How far out of London are we talking? I don't think either of us have seen the Americas yet, you know." 

"Not that far. Still in England, just… away from everything. I’m  _ tired, _ Azra, and I don’t want to be where the craziness is anymore. I don’t want to be in the thick of everything, and no one can tell me where I have to be anymore." 

Azra smiled. "I think that can be arranged." 


	30. Like Real People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Like Real People Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms)

_I will not ask you where you came from,_

_I will not ask and neither should you_

_Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips_

_We should just kiss like real people do_

"Azra, you _promise_ none of this money is going to go to any of your nefarious plans?" Raphael asked, sitting herself down in front of a sleek white laptop. 

"Raphael, dear, you're literally the one at the controls. You can make it go wherever you want it to, just get it out of that man's account!” Azra replied, walking up beside her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her curly red hair wisped around her face, tickled her jawline as it escaped the braid she had woven it into that morning. 

The sunshine was sparkling off the sea, making everything out the window glitter with the light. 

It was a peaceful morning. Every morning was, out where they lived now. 

It had taken a long time to find a home that could fit all of Azra's neatly organized books and scripts and scrolls, had space for all of Raphael's little potted plants, and was big enough that Azra could tolerate Raphael's constant clutter, but not so big that it started to feel like the wide empty halls that Raphael created clutter to avoid. 

The plants were being a little better cared for since Raphael and Azra had moved in together and Azra had gotten an earful of the way Raphael talked to her plants. 

It had taken him a little while to figure out _why_ the Archangel treated the plants like she did, but once he had, it felt like a pit had opened up in his stomach and he had done everything he could to gently discourage the behaviour without outright saying something and embarrassing her. 

It was then that he had realized that working through the both of their traumas was going to take a long time. A habit woven into Raphael's life since the _sixties_ was evidence of it. 

But they had the perfect space to do that from now. 

A little cottage, painted a pale sky blue, right along the seaside. It was Azra who had found it first, but he hadn't told Raphael about it until his tentative offer had been accepted by the seller. 

Then he had toured the Archangel around the cabin without so much as a word of explanation, and when they had reached the end of the tour, she had remarked on the for sale sign and mentioned that it would be perfect. 

Azra had agreed, and when Raphael suggested she make an offer when they got home, he had joyously told her that his offer was accepted and it was theirs if they wanted it. 

Which actually had not gone over as well as Azra had anticipated, which he supposed he could have seen coming. Raphael didn't like it when Azra took big steps without consulting her. 

Once that had been properly discussed and dealt with, however, Raphael had been thrilled about the cottage. They had moved in as soon as they could, carrying boxes upon boxes into their new home. 

Raphael had immediately started converting the backyard into a garden, with blooming flowers and vegetables and even some fruit trees. There were nigh but little paths through all her plants now, and she loved it that way. She could go outside and just disappear, and Azra would find her later, sat beside a tree, eating one of her fruits and watching everything grow. She still scrutinized the outdoor plants like the indoor plants, but it at the very least made sure that there were only the freshest, ripest fruits and vegetables around. 

She would laugh and tug him down to the ground and offer him one of whatever she was eating, point out an earthworm in the dirt that she had been watching, or a caterpillar on a leaf.

She was always watching something in the garden. She loved it out there.

Azra had to admit that the vibrant colours outside were welcome, and Raphael always had a fresh bouquet of flowers sitting on the table, made of blossoms that didn’t pass her final inspection to earn the right to stay outside. 

Azra had convinced her to tress a flower into her braid this morning, which she had agreed to, if she got to choose the flower. He had agreed, it wasn’t as if he believed he would ever have been able to choose one for her anyways.

It wasn’t one of the ones she had planted and cared for meticulously, but one that had popped up in a crack in the concrete steps outside their door the moment she had stepped outside.

It was a dandelion. One of the first of the stories Raphael had told him when they had both come to accept that Azra was never going to remember the time they had spent together before his Fall was the day she had made the dandelions, and infuriated everyone else with the way they grew everywhere throughout the garden. 

She had seemed almost a little shy when she mentioned that she had made the flowers to remind her of Azra.

Honestly, knowing that, Azra felt a little bit flattered that Raphael went and found a dandelion for the flower in her hair. 

Azra walked over and sat down beside Raphael, ran a hand down her back. “You get to do whatever you want, dear. You can interfere how you want, and you can do what you like. Just taking it out of his accounts is the demonic part of it.”

“Is it really? I’m sparing how many people from suffering while working for him?” Raphael asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, come on, Raphael, we agreed that this was both demonic _and_ angelic, that’s why we’re doing it. An action that both appeases and goes directly against our former magistrates.” 

“I know, I know,” Raphael replied, frowning and bringing up a black screen full of code that Azra didn’t understand. She leaned in a little bit closer to the screen. 

Azra reached over and tugged off her sunglasses. “We had a deal, Raphael,” he said, placed them on the desk.  
“It’s not a deal if I don’t get anything out of it, Azra, it’s just you bossing me around,” Raphael replied, but didn’t protest. “Now hush, I need to focus. This isn’t necessarily easy.”

“We could have done it with a miracle.”

“More fun this way.”

Azra snickered. “I’m going to get something to nibble on. Do you want anything?” He asked the angel, who was tapping furiously on the keyboard. 

“Angel, I think you know the answer to that.”

“I’ll bring you one of those coffees you like instead,” Azra decided, stepped into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was sunny and bright, with blue cabinets and dark but sheer curtains hung around the window above the sink. 

It was hard to find a compromise between the dark theme of Azra's bookshop and Raphael's white painted walls with silvery wooden floors, but they managed. Azra thought the house they lived in now suited the both of them quite well. 

He pulled out a pie he had convinced Raphael to help him bake yesterday, with apples from the garden outside, warmed it up in oven, set at a low heat to slowly warm the flaky crust without ruining it. 

For Raphael's coffee, he snapped it into existence. It was easier than having to stomach seeing how much sugar went into what the angel liked to pretend was still coffee at the end of it. 

Placed it down beside the angel. "How goes your hacking?"

"Almost done," Raphael looked over at him and smiled. "I'm almost a bit giddy. Which is weird, this is far from my first misdeed." 

"Dare I say it's the first one you'll be proud to have committed?" Azra suggested, gave her a kiss since she was turned to face him anyways. 

"I suppose that could be it. Now, let's see about- ha! I'm in!" Raphael declared triumphantly. "Stupid security system is no match for an Archangel on a mission." 

"Sure you want to commit robbery? You'll be just like Robin Hood now." 

"Oh, come on, Azra, everyone knows Robin Hood was the good guy in the story, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Don't need Heaven to give me their input on that one, I know I'm right." 

"You most certainly are, dear. But now I think it's time for a little miracle to help you. You won't go undetected for long enough for you to code the computer for what you want to do," Azra reasoned. 

"Oh, fine, I'll use a miracle now," Raphael agreed, snapped her fingers and gave a satisfied grin as the number on the screen quickly dropped to zero. 

The number on the screen was the statement of a certain man's bank accounts, and the certain man ran a very popular shipping company named after a rainforest. 

"So it's done then? First official independent act of angelic interference?" Azra asked, grinning at her.

"And demonic, it was your idea,” Raphael protested. “But yes, it’s done.”

“And what did happen to all the money, dear?”

“Oh, I’m sure the people who need it most will find it pretty quickly,” Raphael suggested, smiling to herself and getting up from the computer. “Now, don’t you have something to eat in the oven? You shouldn’t let it burn.”

“That stove won’t ever burn the pie if it knows what’s good for it, dear, you made sure of that _last_ time something burned in there,” Azra said. “But what were you thinking, now that your little act of… I don’t even know what to call it now, it’s not really a miracle, blessing or temptation, now is it?”

“Well, it’s not a blessing to the person I just did it to, but it’s a blessing to a lot of other people. So, maybe blessing still does work, and you can call it a misdeed for your records.”

“We don’t have to keep records anymore.”

“I know. Anyways, I had thought maybe when you finished your pie we could take a walk down the beach.” 

Azra smiled and snapped his fingers. “The pie can wait, let’s go.”

It was near the end of autumn, a cool breeze was in the air. Raphael tugged an off-white shawl over her shoulders, held out her hand for Azra to join her as she stepped out the door. 

He took her hand happily. They stepped outside and down the sand that squished between the angel’s bare feet, although Azra had refused to take his shoes off. That was fine by Raphael as they walked along the shoreline side by side, the angel’s feet just barely in the water, and Azra’s shoes safe from the waves. The sun was still high above them, casting its glow upon the water. “So, where to for dinner tonight?” Raphael asked, looking over at Azra.

“Why do you ask, you won’t eat anything?” Azra asked, raising an eyebrow. 

The angel laughed and kicked her feet in the water, splashing Azra’s trousers. “I’m curious to know what the trip of the evening is. You did drag me off to France the other week,” she replied. “Although I suppose our stocks of french wine had been running a little low. Not to mention we needed to replace all the champagne we toasted the new house with, and it’s just not the same, buying champagne in London.”

Azra snapped his fingers and dried the cuff of his trousers. “I was thinking that for tonight, we could stay local. Visit the ducks in Saint James’ park, dine at the Ritz.”

“I have missed the ducks,” Raphael agreed, “and I think we have some corn to bring with us. Otherwise we’ll just have to miracle it.” 

Hours later, they were seated at their regular table, Raphael with a glass of champagne in her hand, Azra still puzzling over the menu to decide what to eat, and trying to convince the angel that there was no harm in at least tasting something while they were there. Raphael assured him that she’d have a bite of whatever he ordered, if he would allow it. Azra grumbled and supposed he would allow it, if he had to, prompting a fit of bubbly giggles from the angel. 

It was a busy night at the Ritz, it surely was a miracle that Azra and Raphael had managed to get a table, but miracles were sort of what they did. 

Raphael had to admit, she enjoyed the ambiance of the restaurant. It was even better now, now that past wrongs had been righted and she could put to voice everything that was on her mind. 

She had missed Azra more than she had ever realized when he was still gone. 

He had never been gone, of course, he had been with her all along but it just hadn’t been the same.

She leaned over his shoulder and smiled. “So, what am I trying?”

“I think you’re going to have to be surprised, since you won’t order anything for yourself,” Azra replied, snapping the menu closed and settling it on the table. He sat until the waiter walked up, and whispered the order to him with a secretive smile on his face. 

Raphael had a feeling that she was going to regret agreeing to try whatever Azra ordered.

“Good choice, sir,” the man said, and walked away. 

“Look at you, being all secretive. Good thing I life surprises,” Raphael laughed, rested her chin on her hand, leaned across the table towards Azra. Watching her try to sip from her champagne flute from that pose was comical to say the least. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Raphael. Sit up, we’re in a restaurant, and behave yourself,” Azra laughed. 

“Behave myself? Why should I do that? I’ve been behaving myself for the last six thousand years, and it’s grown tiresome,” Raphael said dramatically, leaned over and pressed a kiss to Azra’s cheek, then flopped over his shoulder.

“Oh, Raphael. Still being ridiculous. Sit down, you can behave like a miscreant when you get home,” Azra instructed, smiling fondly at the angel.

“Doing more than that when we get home. I think I’m going swimming,” Raphael decided. “Soon it’ll be too cold to swim. So, since I won’t be behaving like a miscreant, I’ll be swimming, I see no reason not to do the former here.” 

Azra sighed. Wrapped an arm around the angel’s shoulders. “Well, at least you’ll be my little miscreant, then.”

“Always have been,” Raphael assured him. “With a little six thousand year break when I didn’t get to say it explicitly.” 

“Feel free to say it as much as you may like now, to make up for lost time. I shall revel in hearing it.”

“As long as you will continue to say the same to me.” 

“Always and for the rest of time.” 

And Raphael figured that so long as that remained true, all would be right with the world. 

For as long as the world would continue to last, and maybe even after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over! Thanks for sticking around, it's been a blast!
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/45fo2EJp3bDiqrUYAHinQf?si=y2q9bG3ORciTFMQoYVxLsQ) is the Spotify playlist I made (with some help) and got titles from for this story. I should note that my playlist includes Knives and Pens (acoustic) by Black Veil Brides, Heaven's Gate by Fall Out Boy and a cover of (I Just) Died In Your Arms by Bastille, but Spotify wouldn't let me add those. Do go check it out, there's a lot of songs I never got to use for titles on that playlist!
> 
> [I also made some art for this au, check it out!](https://closetosomethingreal-1337.tumblr.com/post/612880961330348032/set-the-world-on-fire-a-long-time-ago-about-six)


End file.
